eooy  and  (lie  servant  Profilem 


SROME  K.  JEROME 


lMUEL  FRENCH,  28-30  West  38th  St.,  New  Yor 


FANNY  AND  THE 
SERVANT  PROBLEM 


A  Quite  Possible  Play  in 
Four  Acts 


JEROME    K.  JEROME 


Copyright,  1909,  by  Samuel  French,  Ltd. 


CAUTION : — Professionals  and  Amateurs  are  hereby  warned  that  M  Fanny 
and  the  Servant  Problem,"  being  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws 
of  the  United  States  Government,  is  subject  to  royalty,  and  any  one 
presenting  the  play  without  the  consent  of  the  author,  or  his  authorized 
agent,  will  be  liable  to  the  penalties  by  law  provided.  Application  for 
stage  rights  must  be'  made  to  Samuel  'Fpe.vc. b,  28/30  West  38th  $V?et, 
New  York  City.  ,*',','.' 


New  York 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30  WEST  38th  STREET 


London 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street 

STRAND 


Produced  at  the  Aldwych  Theatre,  London,  ori 
October  14,  1908,  with  the  following  cast:  — 

CHARACTERS 

v  Fanny Miss  Fanny  Ward 

Vernon  Wetherell,  Lord  Bantock Mr.  Leslie  Faber 

(Her  Husband) 

Martin  Bennet Mr.  Chas.  Cartwright 

(Her  Butler) 

\  Susannah  Bennet Miss  Kate  Phillips 

(Her  Housekeeper) 

vJane  Bennet Miss  Alma  Murray 

(Her- Maid) 

Ernest  BenNet Mr.  Benedict 

(Her  Second  Footman) 

Honoria  Bennet Miss  Mabel  Garden 

(Her  Still-room  Maid) 

nt       tv/t™        1UnmTTT,  nTT  j  Miss  Adela  Measor 

The  Misses  Wetherell ^tss  Carlotta  Addison 

(Her  Aunts  by  Marriage) 

Dr.  Freemantle Mr.  Chas.  Sugden 

(Her  Local  Medical   Man) 

"Our  Empire" — 

England. 

Scotland 

Ireland 

Wales 

Canada 

Australia 

New  Zealand 

Africa..*, .«#.  *.  j .;.  „j 

India. % ...  .V . .".  !\  ?. 

Neweou.n.pla^mjw.  t . .  /. 

M'tZAY  V&CHIPELACa,'.., 

Straits  Settlements.  . 
George 


Miss  Esme  Beringer 
Miss  Jean  Harkness 
Miss  Barbara  Vivian 
Miss  Lydia  Flopp 
Miss  Margaret  Hasting? 
Miss  Miriam  Miner 
Miss  Vera  Beringer 
Miss  May  Straker 
Miss  Marion  Ashley 
Miss  Patsy  M.cCullock 
Miss  Stewart  Dawson 
k  Miss  Daisy  Markham 

P.  Newte M.  John  W.  Dean 

(Her  Former  Business  Manager) 


Q 

o 

'5 
a 

6 
o 
U 

S 
a 
-o 
c 
o 

p< 

u  • 

<u  « 
ST 


The    scene    takes    place   in    Fanny's   boudoir,, 
Bantock  Hall,  Rutlandshire. 


"  FANNY  AND  THE    SERVANT 
PROBLEM  " 

ACT    I 

Scene. — Bantock  Hall,  Rutlandshire.  Her  boudoir. 
A  handsome,  well-lighted  apartment  in  the  south-west 
wing  of  the  castle,  furniture  and  decorations  of  the 
Louis  XIV  period.  A  deep  bay,  lighted  by  three 
high  windows  facing  the  south-west,  occupies  the  right 
of  the  stage.  The  door  at  back  r.  of  fireplace  leads 
to  Lord  Bantock's  apartments.  The  door  in  L. 
wing  leads  through  her  ladyship's  dressing-room  into 
her  ladyship's  bedroom.  A  large  Adams  fireplace^' 
in  which  a  cheerful  wood  fire  burns,  occupies  the  back 
C.  Over  it  is  the  full  length  portrait  of  Constance, 
first  Lady  Bantock,  by  Hoppner.  The  furniture 
is  handsome  but  simple — French  with  the  exception 
of  a  small  upright  piano.  A  large  desk  faces  the 
three  windows,  a  round  table  between  it  and  the  fire- 
place.  A  settee,  backed  by  a  screen,  is  L.,  at  an 
angle  to  the  fireplace.  Comfortable  chairs  are  in 
plenty.  A  profusion  of  early  spring  flowers  decor- 
ates the  room.  Electric  lighting  is  from  sconces 
placed  round  the  walls. 

The  Time  is  sunset  of  an  early  spring  day.  A  golden 
light  fills  the  room. 

(The  rising  of  the  curtain  discovers  the  Two  Miss 
Wetherells — two  sweet  old  ladies  who  have  grown 
so  much  alike  it  would  be  difficult  for  a  stranger  to 
tell  the  one  from  the  other.  The  hair  of  both  is  white, 
they  are  dressed  much  alike,  both  in  some  soft  lavender 
coloured  material,  mixed  with  soft  lace.  The  French 
clock  on  the  mantelpiece  sounds  in  soft  musical  note 
six  strokes.)     ' 


3S4103 


8  FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM.  ) 

Elder  (hidden  in  the  deep  bay  of  the  window).    Such 
a  lovely  sunset,  dear. 

(The  Younger  Miss  Wetherell,  her  back  towards 
the  spectator,  is  arranging  -flowers  on  the  round 
table  r.c.  She  looks  round,  goes  across  to  the  window. 
Her  sister  comes  back  a  little  into  the  room.  The  Two 
Old  Ladies  stand  holding  each  other's  hands,  looking 
out.) 

Younger.    Beautiful ! 

(A  silence.     The  sun  is  streaming  full  into  the  room.) 

You — you  don't  think,  dear,  that  this  room — (she 
looks  round  it) — may  possibly  be  a  little  too  sunny  to 
quite  suit  her  ? 

Elder  (not  at  first  understanding).     How,  dear,  too 

sun (She  looks  and  grasps  the  meaning.)     You 

mean — you  think  that  perhaps  she — does  that  sort  of 
thing  ? 

Younger.  Well,  dear,  one  is  always  given  to  under- 
stand that  they  do — women — ladies  of  her — profession. 

Elder.  It  seems  to  me  so  wicked  ;  painting  God's 
work. 

Younger.  We  mustn't  judge  hardly,  dear.  Be- 
sides, dear,  we  don't  know  yet  that  she  does. 

Elder.  Perhaps  she's  young,  and  hasn't  com- 
menced it.     I  fancy  it's  only  the  older  ones  that  do  it. 

Younger.     He  didn't  mention  her  age,  I  remember. 

Elder.     No,  dear,  but  I  feel  she's  young. 

Younger.  I  do  hope  she  is.  We  may  be  able  to 
mould  her. 

Elder.  We  must  be  very  sympathetic.  One  can 
accomplish  so  much  with  sympathy. 

Younger.  We  must  get  to  understand  her.  (A 
sudden  thought.)  Perhaps,  dear,  we  may  get  to  like 
her. 

Elder    (seems  doubtful).     We  might  try,  dear. 

Younger.  For  Vernon's  sake.  The  poor  boy 
seems  so  much  in  love  with  her.     We  must 


FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM.  p 

(Enter  Be  wet  l.  c.     He  is  the  ideal  butler.) 

Bennet.  Doctor  Freemantle.  I  have  shown  him 
into  the  library. 

Younger.  Thank  you,  Bennet.  Will  you  please 
tell  him  that  we  shall  be  down  in  a  few  minutes. 
I  must  just  finish  these  flowers.  (She  returns  to  the 
table.) 

Elder.  Why  not  ask  him  to  come  up  here.  We 
could  consult  him — about  the  room.  He  always 
knows  everything. 

Younger.  A  good  idea.  Please  ask  him,  Bennet, 
if  he  would  mind  coming  up  to  us  here. 

(Bennet,  who  has  been  attending  to  the  needs  of  the 
fire,  turns  to  go.) 

Oh,  Bennet! 

(He  stops  and  turns.) 

You  will  remind  Charles  to  put  a  footwarmer  in  the 
carriage  ! 

Bennet.     I  will  see  to  it  myself. 

Younger  (as  Bennet  goes  out).  Thank  you, 
"Bennet.  (To  her  sister.)  One's  feet  are  always  so 
cold  after  a  railway  journey. 

Elder.  I've  been  told  that,  nowadays,  they  heat 
the  carriages, 

Younger.  Ah,  it  is  an  age  of  luxury  !  :  I  wish  I 
knew  which  were  her  favourite  flowers.  It  is  so  nice 
to  be  greeted  by  one's  favourite  flowers. 

Elder.     I  feel  so  sure  she  loves  lilies. 

Younger.  And  they  are  so  appropriate  to  a  bride. 
So 

(Enter,  announced  by  Bennet,  Dr.  Freemantle. 
He  is  a  dapper  little  man,  clean  shaven,  with  quick 
brisk  ways.) 

Dr.  F.  (he  shakes  hands  with  the  Two  Old  Ladies). 
Well,  and  how  are  we  this  afternoon  ?     (He  feels  the 


10   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

pulse  of  the  Younger.)  Steadier.  Much  steadier ! 
(Of  the  Elder.)     Nervous  tension  greatly  relieved. 

Younger.     She  has  been  sleeping  much  better. 

Dr.  F.  (he  is  standing  between  them.  He  pats  the 
hand  of  the  Elder.)     Excellent !     Excellent ! 

Elder.     She  ate  a  good  breakfast  this  morning. 

Dr.  F.  (he  pats  the  hand  of  the  Younger)  .  Couldn't 
have  a  better  sign.  (He  smiles  from  one  to  the  other.) 
Brain  disturbance,  caused  by  futile  opposition  to 
the  inevitable,  evidently  abating.  One  page  Marcus 
Aurelius  every  morning  before  breakfast.  "  Adapt 
thyself,"  says  Marcus  Aurelius,  "  to  the  things  with 
which  thy  lot  has  been  cast.    Whatever  happens " 

Younger.     You  see,  doctor,  it  was  all  so  sudden. 

Dr.  F.  The  unexpected  !  It  has  a  way  of  taking 
us  by  surprise — bowling  us  over — completely.  Till 
we  pull  ourselves  together.  Make  the  best  of  what 
can't  be  helped  like — like  brave,  swTeet  gentlewomen. 
(He  presses  their  hands.) 

(They  are  both  wiping  away  a  tear.) 

When  do  you  expect  them  ? 

Elder.  To-night,  by  the  half-past  eight  train.  We 
had  a  telegram  this  morning  from  Dover. 

Dr.  F.  Um  !  and  this  is  to  be  her  room  ?  (He  takes 
it  in.)  The  noble  and  renowned  Constance,  friend 
and  confidant  of  the  elder  Pitt,  maker  of  history, 
first  Lady  Bantock — by  Hoppner — always  there  to 
keep  an  eye  on  her,  remind  her  of  the  family  tradi- 
tions.    Brilliant  idea,  brilliant ! 

(They  are  smiling  with  pleasure.) 

Elder.  And  you  don't  think — it  is  what  we  wanted 
to  ask  you — that  there  is  any  fear  of  her  finding  it  a 
little  trying — the  light.  You  see,  this  is  an  excep- 
tionally sunny  room. 

Younger.  And  these  actresses — if  all  one  hears  is 
true 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    11 

(The  dying  sun  is  throwing  his  last  beams  across  the 
room.) 

Dr.  F.  Which,  thank  God,  it  isn't.  (He  seats  him- 
self in  the  large  easy  chair.) 

(The  Two  Ladies  sit  side  by  side  on  the  settee.) 

I'll  tell  you  just  exactly  what  you've  got  to  expect. 
A  lady — a  few  years  older  than  the  boy  himself — but 
still  young.  Exquisite  figure ;  dressed — perhaps  a 
trifle  too  regardless  of  expense.  Hair — maybe  just  a 
shade  too  golden.  All  that  can  be  altered.  Features 
— piquant,  with  expressive  eyes,  the  use  of  which  she 
probably  understands,  and  an  almost  permanent 
smile,  displaying  an  admirably  preserved  and  re- 
markably even  set  of  teeth.  But,  above  all,  clever. 
That's  our  sheet  anchor.  The  woman's  clever. 
She  will  know  how  to  adapt  herself  to  her  new 
position. 

Younger  (turning  to  her  sister).  Yes,  she  must 
be  clever  to  have  obtained  the  position  that  she  has. 
(To  the  Doctor.)  Vernon  says  that  she  was  quite  the 
chief  attraction  all  this  winter — in  Paris. 

Elder.    And  the  French  public  is  so  critical. 

Dr.  F.  (drily).  Um  !  I  was  thinking  rather  of  her 
cleverness  in  ''  landing "  poor  Vernon.  The  lad's 
not  a  fool. 

Elder.  We  must  do  her  justice.  I  think  she  was 
really  in  love  with  him. 

Dr.  F.  (still  more  drily).  Very  possibly.  Most 
cafe"  chantant  singers,  I  take  it,  would  be — with  an 
English  lord.  (He  laughs,  and  settling  himself  more 
comfortably,  takes  in  his  hand  a  vase  of  flowers,  is 
smelling  them.) 

Elder.    You  see,  she  didn't  know  he  was  a  lord. 

Dr.  F.  (sits  up).     Didn't  know ? 

Younger.  No.  She  married  him,  thinking  him 
to  be  a  plain  Mr.  Wetherell,  an  artist. 

Dr.  F.  (he  puts  back  the  vase — pushes  it  from  him). 
Where  d'ye  get  all  that  from  ? 


12   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Elder.  From  Vernon  himself.  You've  got  his 
last  letter,  dear.  (She  has  opened  her  chatelaine  bag.) 
Oh,  no,  I've  got  it  myself. 

Younger.  He's  not  going  to  break  it  to  her  till 
they  reach  here  this  evening. 

Elder  (she  reads).  Yes.  "  I  shall  not  break  it 
to  her  before  we  reach  home.  We  were  married 
quietly  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  she  has  no  idea  I 
am  anything  else  than  plain  Vernon  James  Wetherell, 
a  fellow-countryman  of  her  own,  and  a  fellow  artist. 
The  dear  creature  has  never  even  inquired  whether 
I  am  rich  or  poor."     I  like  her  for  that. 

Dr.  F.     You  mean  to  tell  me (He  jumps  up 

with  his  hands  in  his  jacket  pockets  ;  he  walks  to  and  fro.) 
I  suppose  it's  possible. 

Elder.  You  see,  she  isn't  the  ordinary  class  of 
music-hall  singer. 

Dr.  F.     I  should  say  not. 

Elder.    She  comes  of  quite  a  good  family. 

Younger.     Her  uncle  was  a  bishop. 

Dr.  F.     Bishop  ?     Of  where  ? 

Elder  (with  the  letter) .  He  says  he  can't  spell  it. 
It's  somewhere  in  New  Zealand. 

Dr.  F.     Do  they  have  bishops  over  there  ? 

Younger.    Well,  evidently. 

Elder.    Then  her  cousin  is  a  judge. 

Dr.  F.     In  New  Zealand  ?  , 

Elder  {still  referring  to  the  letter).     No — in  Ohio. 

Dr.  F.  Seems  to  have  been  a  somewhat  scattered 
family. 

Younger.     People  go  about  so  much  nowadays. 

(Enter  Mrs.  Bennet,  the  housekeeper.)  .n 

Mrs.  B.  (she  is  about  to  speak  to  the  Misses  W. ;  sees 
the  Doctor).     Good-afternoon,  doctor. 

Dr.  F.     Afternoon,  Mrs.  Bennet. 

Mrs.  B.  (she  turns  to  the  Misses  W.,  her  watch  in 
her  hand).  I  was  thinking  of  having  the  fire  lighted 
in  her  ladyship's  bedroom.     It  is  half-past  six. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   13 

Elder.    You  are  always  so  thoughtful.     She  may 
be  tired. 
Mrs.  B.     If  so,  everything  will  be  quite  ready. 

(She  goes  out  l.,  closing  door.) 

Dr.  F.  What  do  they  think  about  it  all— the 
Bennets  ?    You  have  told  them  ? 

Younger.  We  thought  it  better.  You  see,  one 
hardly  regards  them  as  servants.  They  have  been 
in  the  family  so  long.     Three  generations  of  them. 

Elder.  Really,  since  our  poor  dear  brother's 
death,  Bennet  has  been  more  like  the  head  of  the  house 
than  the  butler. 

Younger.    Of  course,  he  doesn't  say  much. 

Elder.  It  is  her  having  been  on  the  stage  that 
they  feel  so. 

Younger.  You  see,  they  have  always  been  a 
religious  family. 

Elder.  Do  you  know,  I  really  think  they  feel  it 
more  than  we  do.  I  found  Peggy  crying  about  it 
yesterday  in  the  scullery. 

Dr.  F.  (he  has  been  listening  with  a  touch  of  amuse- 
ment).    Peggy  Bennet  ? 

Younger.     Yes.     Charles  Bennet's  daughter. 

Dr.  F.  Happen  to  have  a  servant  about  the  place 
who  isn't  a  Bennet  ? 

Younger.  No,  no,  I  don't  really  think  we  have. 
Oh,  yes — that  new  girl  Mrs.  Bennet  engaged  last  week 
for  the  dairy.     What  is  her  name  ? 

Elder.    Arnold. 

Younger.    Ah,  yes,  Arnold. 
»   Dr.  F.    Ah  ! 

Elder.     I  think  she's  a  cousin,  dear. 

Younger.    Only  a  second  cousin. 

Dr.  F.  Urn  !  Well,  I  should  tell  the  whole  family 
to  buck  up.  Seems  to  me,  from  what  you  tell  me, 
that  their  master  is  bringing  them  home  a  treasure. 
[He  shakes  hands  briskly  with  the  ladies.)    May  look 


14   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

in  again  to-morrow.  Don't  forget — one  page  Marcus 
Aurelius  before  breakfast — in  case  of  need. 

(He  goes  out.) 

(The  sun  has  sunk.     The  light  is  twilight.) 

Elder.     He  always  cheers  one  up. 
Younger.    He's  so  alive. 

(Re-enter  Mrs.  Bennet  from  l.  She  leaves  the  door  ajar. 
The  sound  of  a  hammer  is  heard.  It  ceases  almost 
immediately.) 

Oh,  Mrs.  Bennet,  we  were  going  to  ask  you — who  is  to 
be  her  ladyship's  maid  ?    Have  you  decided  yet  ? 

Mrs.  B.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion — looking 
at  the  thing  from  every  point  of  view — that  Jane 
would  be  the  best  selection. 

Younger.    Jane  !     (She  turns  to  her  sister.) 

Elder.     But  does  she  understand  the  duties  ? 

Mrs.  B.  A  lady's  maid  being  so  much  alone  with 
her  mistress  is  bound  to  have  a  certain  amount  of 
influence.    And  J  ane  has  exceptionally  high  principles. 

Younger.    That  is  true,  dear. 

Mrs.  B.  As  regards  the  duties,  she  is  very  quick 
at  learning  anything  new.     Of  course,  at  first 

(The  sound  of  hammering  again  comes  from  the  bedroom.) 

Younger.  Who  is  that  hammering  in  her  lady- 
ship's bedroom. 

Mrs.  B.  It  is  Bennet,  Miss  Edith.  We  thought  it 
might  be  helpful ;  a  few  texts,  hung  where  they 
would  always  catch  her  ladyship's  eye.  (She  notices 
the  look  of  doubt.)  Nothing  offensive.  Mere  general 
exhortations  such  as  could  be  read  by  any  lady. 

(The  Misses  W.  look  at  one  another,  but  do  not  speak.) 

I  take  it,  dinner  will  be  at  half-past  seven,  as  usual  ? 
Elder.    Yes,  Mrs.  Bennet,  thank  you.    They  will 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   15 

not  be  here  till  about  nine.  They  will  probably  prefer 
a  little  supper  to  themselves. 

(Mrs.  Bennet  goes  out  c.) 

(The  Misses  W.  are  looking  at  one  another  again. 
The  hammering  recommences.) 

Younger  (she  hesitates  a  moment,  then  goes  to  the 
open  door  and  calls).  Bennet — Bennet !  (She  returns 
and  waits.) 

(Bennet  enters.) 

Oh,  Bennet,  your  wife  tells  us  you  are  putting  up  a 
few  texts  in  her  ladyship's  bedroom. 

Bennet.  It  seemed  to  me  that  a  silent  voice,  speak- 
ing to  her,  as  it  were,  from  the  wall 

Younger.  It  is  so  good  of  you — only — you — you 
will  be  careful  there  is  nothing  she  could  regard  as  a 
personal  allusion. 

Bennet.  Many  of  the  most  popular  I  was  com- 
pelled to  reject,  purely  for  that  reason. 

Elder.  We  felt  sure  we  could  trust  to  your 
discretion. 

Younger.  You  see,  coming,  as  she  does,  from  a 
good  family 

Bennet.  It  is  that — I  speak  merely  for  myself — 
that  gives  me  hope  of  reclaiming  her. 

(A  pause.    The  Two  Ladies,  feeling  a  little  helpless, 
again  look  at  one  another.) 

Elder.    We  must  be  very  sympathetic. 

Younger.    And  patient,  Bennet. 

Bennet.  It  is  what  I  am  preparing  myself  to  be. 
Of  course,  if  you  think  them  inadvisable,  I  can  take 
them  down  again. 

Younger.  No,  Bennet,  oh  no!  I  should  leave 
them  up.    Very  thoughtful  of  you  indeed. 


10   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Bennet.  It  seemed  to  me  one  ought  to  leave  no 
stone  unturned. 

(He  goes  out  l.,  closes  the  door.) 

Younger  (after  a  pause).  I  do  hope  she'll  like  the 
Bennets. 

Elder.  I  think  she  will — after  a  time — when  she 
is  used  to  them. 

Younger.     I  am  so  anxious  it  should  turn  out  well. 

Elder.  I  feel  sure  she's  a  good  woman.  Vernon 
would  never  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  if  she  hadn't 
been  good. 

(They  take  each  other's  hand,  and  sit  side  by  side,  as 
before,  upon  the  settee.  The  twilight  has  faded,  only 
the  faint  firelight  remains,  surrounded  by  shadows.) 

Do  you  remember,  when  he  Was  a  little  mite,  how  he 
loved  to  play  with  your  hair  ? 

(The  Younger  laughs.) 

I  always  envied  you  your  hair. 

Younger.  He  was  so  fond  of  us  both.  Do  you 
remember  when  he  was  recovering  from  the  measles, 
his  crying  for  us  to  bath  him  instead  of  Mrs.  Bennet. 
I  have  always  reproached  myself  that  we  refused. 

Elder.     He  was  such  a  big  boy  for  his  age. 

Younger.  I  think  we  might  have  stretched  a  point 
in  a  case  of  illness. 

(The  room  has  grown  very  dark.  The  door  has  been 
softly  opened,  Vernon,  followed  by  Fanny,  has 
entered  noiselessly.  Fanny  remains  near  the  door 
hidden  by  the  screen — Vernon  has  crept  forward.  At 
this  point  the  Old  Ladies  become  aware  that  some- 
body is  in  the  room.     They  are  a  little  alarmed.) 

Who's  there  ? 
Vernon.  '  It's  all  right,  aunt.     It's  only  I. 

(The  Two  Ladies  have  risen.  They  run  forward, 
both  take  him  in  their  arms.) 


FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM.        17 

Younger.    Vernon  ! 
Elder.    My  dear  boy  ! 

Younger.    But  we  didn't  expect  you 

Elder.     And  your  wife,  dear  ? 
Vernon.     She's  here  ! 
Elder.     Here  ? 

(Fanny,  from  behind  screen,  laughs) 

Vernon.  We'll  have  some  light.  {He  whispers  to 
them.)  Not  a  word — haven't  told  her  yet.  (Feeling 
his  way  to  the  wall,  r.  of  fireplace,  he  turns  on  the 
electric  light.) 

(Fanny  is  discovered,  having  slipped  out  from  behind 
the  screen.  There  is  a  pause.  Vernon  standing 
near  the  fire,  watches  admiringly.) 

Fanny.  Hope  you  are  going  to  like  me. 
Younger.  My  dear,  I  am  sure  we  shall. 
Elder.     It  is  so  easy  to  love  the  young  and  pretty. 

(They  have  drawn  close  to  her.     They  seem  to  hesitate) 

Fanny  (laughs) .    It  doesn't  come  off,  does  it,  Vernon 
dear  ? 
(Vernon  laughs.    The  Two  Old  Ladies,  laughing, 

kiss  her.) 

Fanny.  I'm  so  glad  you  think  I'm  pretty.  As  a 
matter  of  fact.  I'm  not.  There's  a  certain  charm 
about  me.  I  admit.     It  deceives  people. 

(Vernon  laughs  again.) 

Younger.  We  were  afraid — you  know,  dear,  boys — 
(she  looks  at  him  and  smiles) — sometimes  fall  in  love 
with  women  much  older  than  themselves — especially 
women. — (She  grows  confused — takes  the  girVs  hand.) 
We  are  so  relieved  that  you — that  you  are  yourself, 
dear. 

Fanny.  You  were  quite  right,  dear.  They  are 
sweet.    Which  is  which  ? 

B 


18       FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Vernon  (laughs).    Upon  my  word,  I  never  can  tell. 
Younger.    Vernon  !   And  you  know  I  was  always 
your  favourite  ! 
Elder.    Dear ! 

Vernon.    Then  this  is  Aunt  Alice. 
Younger.    No,  dear,  Edith. 

(Vernon  throws  up  his  hands  in  despair.    They  all 


Fanny.  I  think  I  shall  dress  you  differently  ;  put 
you  in  blue  and  you  in  pink.  (She  laughs.)  Is  this 
the  drawing-room  ? 

Vernon.     Your  room,  dear. 

Fanny.  I  like  a  room  where  one  can  stretch  one's 
legs.     (She  walks  across  it.)    A  little  too  much  desk. 

Elder.     It  belonged  to  the  elder  Pitt. 

Fanny.  Um  !  Suppose  we  must  find  a  corner  for 
it  somewhere.     That's  a  good  picture. 

Younger.     It  is  by  Hoppner. 
t    Fanny  (she  turns  to  Vernon).     One  of  your  artist 
friends  ? 

Vernon.  Well — you  see,  dear,  that's  a  portrait 
of  my  great  grandmother — painted  from  life. 

Fanny  (she  whistles).  I  am  awfully  ignorant  on 
some  topics.  One  good  thing,  I  always  was  a  quick 
study.     Not  a  bad-looking  woman. 

Elder.  We  are  very  proud  of  her.  She  was  the 
first 

Vernon  (hastily).  We  will  have  her  history  some 
other  time. 

Younger  (who  understands,  signs  to  her  sister).  Of 
course.  She's  tired.  We  are  forgetting  everything 
« — you  will  have  some  tea,  won't  you,  dear  ? 

Fanny.     No,  thanks.     We  had  tea  in  the  train. 

(With  the  more  or  less  helpful  assistance  of  Vernon 
she  divests  herself  of  her  outdoor  garments,  they 
varying  the  work  with  lover-like  pecks  and  twitterings.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   19 

Elder  (she  holds  up  her  hands  in  astonishment). 
Tea  in  the  train ! 

Younger.  We  were  not  expecting  you  so  soon. 
You  said  in  your  telegram 

Vernon.  Oh,  it  was  raining  in  London.  We 
thought  we  would  come  straight  on — leave  our 
shopping  for  another  day. 

Fanny.  I  believe  you  were  glad  it  was  raining. 
Saved  you  such  a  lot  of  money.     Old  Stingy ! 

Elder.     Then  did  you  walk  from  the  station,  dear  ? 

Fanny.  Didn't  it  seem  a  long  way  ?  (She  laughs 
up  into  his  face.)    He  was  so  bored. 

(Vernon  laughs.) 

Younger.  I  had  better  tell — -  (She  is  going 
towards  the  bell.) 

Vernon  (he  stops  her) .  Oh,  let  them  alone.  Plenty 
of  time  for  all  that  fuss.  (He  puts  them  both  gently 
side  by  side  on  the  settee.)  Sit  down  and  talk.  Haven't 
I  been  clever  ?  (He  puts  his  arm  round  Fanny, 
laughing.)  You  thought  I  had  made  an  ass  of  myself, 
^didn't  you  ?  (He  laughs.)  „  Did  you  get  all  my 
letters  ? 

Younger.    I  think  so,  dear. 

(Fanny  is  sitting  in  the  easy  chair  r.c.    Vernon 
seats  himself  on  the  arm.) 

Fanny.  Do  you  know  I've  never  had  a  love-letter 
from  you  ? 

Vernon.  You  gave  me  no  time.  She  met  me  a 
month  ago,  and  married  me  last  week. 

Fanny.  It  was  quick  work.  He  came — he  saw — - 
I  conquered !     (Laughs.) 

Elder.  They  say  that  love  at  first  sight  is  often 
the  most  lasting. 

Vernon  (he  puts  his  arm  around  her).  You  are 
sure  you  will  never  regret  having  given  up  the  stage 
— the  excitement 

Fanny.    The   excitement.    Do   you   know  what 


20   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

an  actress's  life  always  seemed  to  me  like  ?  Dancing 
on  a  tight  rope  with  everybody  throwing  stones  at 
you.  One  soon  gets  tired  of  that  sort  of  excitement. 
Oh,  I  was  never  in  love  with  the  stage.  Had  to  do 
something  for  a  living. 

Younger.     It  must  be  a  hard  life  for  a  woman. 

Elder.  Especially  for  any  one  not  brought  up  to 
it. 

Fanny.  You  see,  I  had  a  good  voice  and  what  I 
suppose  you  might  call  a  natural  talent  for  acting. 
It  seemed  the  easiest  thing. 

Younger.  I  suppose  your  family  were  very  much 
opposed  to  it  ? 

(Vernon  has  changed  his  position.    He  is  standing 
with  his  back  to  the  fire.) 

Fanny.    My  family  ?    Hadn't  any ! 
Elder.    No  family  ? 

(Bennet  enters  L.c.) 

Fanny.  No,  you  see,  I  was  an  only  child.  My 
father  and  mother  both  died  before  I  was  fourteen. 

(Bennet  at  sound  of  Fanny's  voice  suddenly  stops — 
hidden  behind  the  screen.) 

Younger.     But  your  uncle  ? 

Fanny.  Oh,  him  !  It  was  to  get  away  from  him 
and  all  that  crew  that  I  went  on  the  stage. 

Elder.  It  is  so  sad  when  relations  don't  get  on 
together. 

Fanny.  Sadder  still  when  they  think  they've  got 
a  right  to  trample  on  you,  just  because  you  happen 
to  be  an  orphan  and — I  don't  want  to  talk  about  my 
relations.  I  want  to  forget  them.  I  stood  them  for 
nearly  six  months.  I  don't  want  to  be  reminded  of 
them.  I  want  to  forget  that  they  ever  existed.  I 
want  to  for 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   21 

(Bennet  has  come  down  very  quietly.  Fanny,  from 
where  he  stands,  is  the  only  one  who  sees  him.  He 
stands  looking  at  her,  his  features,  as  ever,  immovable. 
At  sight  of  him  her  eyes  and  mouth  open  wider  and 
wider.  The  words  die  away  from  her  tongue.  Ver- 
non has  turned  away  and  put  a  log  on  the  fire,  and 
so  has  not  seen  her  expression — only  hears  her  sudden 
silence.  He  looks  up  and  sees  Bennet,  who  has 
moved  a  few  steps  further  down.) 

Vernon.  Ah,  Bennet !  (He  advances,  holding 
out  his  hand.)     You  quite  well  ? 

Bennet   {shaking  hands   with  him).    Quite   well. 

Vernon.    Good  !    And  all  the  family  ? 

Bennet.  Nothing  to  complain  of.  Charles  has 
had  a  touch  of  influenza. 

Vernon..    Ah,  sorry  to  hear  that. 

Bennet.    And  your  lordship  ? 

Vernon.    Fit    as    a    fiddle — your   new  mistress. 

(Fanny  has  risen.  Bennet  turns  to  her.  For  a 
moment  his  lack  is  towards  the  other  three.  Fanny 
only  sees  his  face.) 

Bennet.  We  shall  endeavour  to  do  our  duty  to 
her  ladyship.  (He  turns  to  Vernon.)  I  had  arranged 
for  a  more  fitting  reception 

Vernon.  To  tell  the  honest  truth,  Bennet,  the 
very  thing  we  were  afraid  of — why  we  walked  from 
the  station,  and  slipped  in  by  the  side  door.  (Laugh- 
ing)    Has  the  luggage  come  ? 

Bennet.  It  has  just  arrived.  It  was  about  that 
I  came  to  ask.     I  could  not  understand 

(The  Misses  W.  have  also  risen.  Fanny's  speechless 
amazement  is  attributed  by  them  and  Vernon  to 
natural  astonishment  at  discovery  of  his  rank.) 

Younger.     You  will  be  wanting  a  quiet    talk 
together.     We  shall  see  you  at  dinner. 
Vernon.    What  time  is  dinner  ? 


22   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Younger.  Half-past  seven.  (To  Fanny.)  But 
don't  you  hurry,  dear.  I  will  tell  cook  to  delay  it  a 
little.     (She  kisses  her.) 

Elder.  You  will  want  some  time  to  arrange  that 
prett)'  hair  of  ytfuis.  {She  also  kisses  the  passive, 
speechless  Fanny.) 

(They  go  out  hand  in  hand.) 

Bennet.  I  will  see,  while  I  am  here,  that  your 
lordship's  room  is  in  order. 

Vernon.    Why,  where 's  Robert  then  ? 

Bennet.  He  has  gone  into  town  to  do  some 
shopping.  We  did  not  expect  your  lordship  much 
before  nine.  There  may  be  one  or  two  things  to  see 
to. 

(He  goes  out  r.c.) 

Fanny  (l.).    Vernon,  where  am  I  ? 

Vernon.    At  home,  dear. 

Fanny.    Yes,  but  where  ? 

Vernon.    At  Bantock  Hall,  Rutlandshire. 

(Fanny  sits  down  on  the  settee — drops  down.) 

(He  goes  to  her.)  You're  not  angry  with  me  ?  You 
know  how  the  world  always  talks  in  these  cases.  I 
wanted  to  be  able  to  prove  to  them  all  that  you 
married  me  for  myself.  Not  because  I  was  Lord 
Bantock.  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  (He  leans  over  her, 
laughing.) 

Fanny  (she  still  seems  in  a  dream) .    Yes — of  course. 

You  didn't — you  wouldn't (She  suddenly  springs 

up.)  Vernon,  you  do  love  me  ?  (She  flings  her  arms 
round  his  neck.) 

Vernon.    Dear ! 

Fanny.    You  will  never  be  ashamed  of  me  ? 

Vernon.    Dearest ! 

Fanny.  1  was  only  a  music-hall  singer.  There's 
no  getting  over  it,  you  know. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    23 

Vernon.  I  should  have  loved  you  had  you  been  a 
beggar  maid. 

Fanny  (she  still  clings  to  him).  With  an  uncle  a 
costermonger,  and  an  aunt  who  sold  matches.  It 
wouldn't  have  made  any  difference  to  you,  would  it  ? 
You  didn't  marry  me  for  my  family,  did  you  ?  You 
didn't,  did  you  ? 

Vernon.  Darling !  I  married  you  because  you 
are  the  most  fascinating,  the  most  lovable,  the  most 
wonderful  little  woman  in  the  world. 

(Fanny  gives  a  sob.) 

As  for  your  family — I've  got  a  confession  to  make  to 
you,  dear.  I  made  inquiries  about  your  family  be- 
fore I  proposed  to  you.  Not  for  my  own  sake — 
because  I  knew  I'd  have  to  answer  a  lot  of  stupid 
questions.     It  seemed  to  me  quite  a  good  family. 

Fanny.  It  is  !  Oh,  it  is  !  There  never  was  such 
a  respectable  family.  That's  why  I  never  could  get 
on  with  them. 

Vernon  (laughing).  Well,  you  haven't  got  to — 
any  more.    We  needn't  even  let  them  know— 

(Bennet  re-enters.  Vernon  moves  a  few  steps  away 
from  her.  Fanny  stands  with  her  face  turned 
towards  the  fire.) 

Bennet.  Robert,  I  find,  has  returned.  It  is  ten 
minutes  to  seven. 

Vernon.  Thanks.  Well,  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  bath. 
(He  turns  to  Fanny.)  Bennet  will  send  your  maid 
to  vou.  (He  whispers  to  her.)  You'll  soon  get  used 
to  it  all.  As  for  the  confounded  family — we  will  forget 
all  about  them. 

(Fanny  answers  with  another  little  stifled  sob.  Bennet 
is  drawing  the  curtains,  his  back  to  the  room.) 


24   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

(Vernon  sees  that  Bennet  is  occupied,  so  he  steals  a 
kiss  from  the  unresponsive  Fanny  and  goes  out  r.  c.) 

[At  the  sound  of  the  closing  of  the  door,  Fanny  looks 
round,  goes  to  the  door  through  which  Vernon  has 
just  passed,  listens  a  moment,  then  returns  to  centre 
of  room.  Bennet  calmly  finishes  the  drawing  of 
the  curtains.  Then  he,  too,  crosses  slowly  till  he  and 
Fanny  are  facing  one  another  across  the  centre  of  the 
room.) 

Fanny.    Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Bennet.     My  duty ! 

Fanny.  What's  that  ?  Something  unpleasant, 
I  know  I  can  bet  my  bottom  dollar. 

Bennet.    That,  my  girl,  will  depend  upon  you. 

Fanny.     How  upon  me  ? 

Bennet.  Whether  you  prove  an  easy  or  a  difficult 
subject.  To  fit  you  for  your  position  a  certain 
amount  of  training  will,  I  fancy,  be  necessary. 

Fanny.  Training!  I'm  to  be (She  draws  herself 

up.)    Are  you  aware  who  I  am  ? 

Bennet.  Oh  yes.  And  who  you  were.  His  lord- 
ship, I  take  it,  would  hardly  relish  the  discovery  that 
he  had  married  his  butler's  niece.  He  might  consider 
the  situation  awkward. 

Fanny.     And  who's  going  to  train  me  ? 

Bennet.  I  am.  With  the  assistance  of  your  aunt 
and  such  other  members  of  your  family  as  I  consider 
can  be  trusted. 

Fanny  (for  a  moment  she  is  speechless,  then  she 
bursts  out).  That  ends  it !  I  shall  tell  him  !  I  shall 
tell  him  this  very  moment.     (She  crosses.) 

Bennet.  At  this  moment  you  will  most  likely  find 
his  lordship  in  his  bath. 

Fanny.  I  don't  care !  Do  you  think — do  you 
think  for  a  moment  that  I'm  going  to  allow  myself 

— I,  Lady  Bantock,  to  be I  shall  tell  him  and  you'll 

only   have  yourself   to   blame.     He   loves   me — he 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   2f 

loves  me  for  myself.  I  shall  tell  him  the  whole  truth, 
and  ask  him  to  give  you  all  the  sack. 

Bennet  (l.  a).  You're  not  forgetting  that 
you've  already  told  him  once  whom  you  were  ? 

(It  stops  her.  What  she  really  did  was  to  leave  the 
marriage  arrangements  in  the  hands  of  her  business 
agent,  George  P.  Newte.  As  agent  for  a  music-hall 
star,  he  is  ideal,  but  it  is  possible  that  in  answering 
Lord  Bantock's  inquiries  concerning  Fanny's 
antecedents  he  may  not  have  kept  strictly  to  the  truth.) 

Fanny.  I  never  did.  I've  never  told  him  any- 
thing about  my  family. 

Bennet.  Curious.  I  was  given  to  understand 
it  was  rather  a  classy  affair. 

Fanny.  I  can't  help  what  other  people  may  have 
done.     Because  some  silly  idiot  of  a  man  may  possibly 

Uncle,  dear,  wouldn't  it  be  simpler  for  you  all  to  go 

away  ?  He's  awfully  fond  of  me.  He'll  do  anything 
I  ask  him.  I  could  merely  say  that  I  didn't  like  ycu 
and  get  him  to  pension  you  off.  You  and  aunt  could 
have  a  little  roadside  inn  somewhere — with  ivy. 

Bennet.  Seeing  that  together  with  the  stables 
and  the  garden  there  are  twenty-three  of  us 

Fanny.  No,  of  course,  he  couldn't  pension  you  all. 
You  couldn't  expect 

Bennet.  I  think  his  lordship  might  prefer  to 
leave  things  as  they  are.  Good  servants  nowadays 
are  not  so  easily  replaced.  And  neither  your  aunt 
nor  I  are  at  an  age  when  change  appeals  to  one. 

Fanny.  You  see,  it's  almost  bound  to  creep  out 
sooner  or  later,  and  then 

Bennet.  We  will  make  it  as  late  as  possible.  (He 
crosses  and  rings  the  bell.)  Giving  you  time  to  prove 
to  his  lordship  that  you  are  not  incapable  of  learning. 

Fanny  (she  sits  on  the  settee,  she  is  half  crying). 
Some  people  would  be  pleased  that  their  niece  had 
married  well. 


26   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Bennet.  I  am  old-fashioned  enough  to  think  also 
of  my  duty  to  those  I  serve.  If  his  lordship  has  done 
me  the  honour  to  marry  my  niece,  the  least  I  can  do 
is  to  see  to  it  that  she  brings  no  discredit  to  his  name. 

(Mrs.  Bennet,  followed  by  Jane,  a  severe  looking 
woman  of  middle  age,  has  entered  upon  the  words 
"  the  least  I  can  do."  Bennet  stays  them  a  moment 
with  his  hand  while  he  finishes.  Then  he  turns  to 
his  wife.) 

You  will  be  interested  to  find,  Susannah,  that  the 
new  Lady  Bantock  is  not  a  stranger. 

Mrs.  B.  Not  a  stranger !  (She  has  reached  a  posi- 
tion from  where  she  sees  the  girl.)  Fanny !  You 
wicked  girl !    Where  have  you  been  all  these  years  ? 

Bennet  (interposing).  There  will  be  other  oppor- 
tunities for  the  discussion  of  family  differences.  Just 
now  her  ladyship  is  waiting  to  dress  for  dinner. 

Mrs.  B.  (sneering).     Her  ladyship  ! 

Jane  (also  sneering).  I  think  she  might  have  fore- 
warned us  of  the  honour  in  store  for  us. 

Mrs.  B.     Yes,  why  didn't  she  write  ? 

Fanny.  Because  I  didn't  know.  Do  you  think — 
(she  rises) — that  if  I  had  I  would  ever  have  married 
him — to  be  brought  back  here  ?  Put  in  this  ridic- 
ulous position  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  am  so  fond  of 
you  all  that  I  couldn't  keep  away  from  you  at  any 
price  ? 

Mrs.  B.  But  you  must  have  known  that  Lord 
Bantock — — 

Fanny.  I  didn't  know  he  was  Lord  Bantock.  I 
only  knew  him  as  Mr.  Wetherell,  an  artist.  He 
wanted  to  feel  sure  that  I  was  marrying  him  for 
himself  alone.     He  never  told  me 

(Ernest,  a  very  young  footman,  has  entered  in  answer 
to  Bennet's  ring  of  a  minute  ago.    He  has  come 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   27 

forward  step  by  step,  staring  all  the  while  open- 
mouthed  at  Fanny.) 
(Turning,  she  sees  Ernest  beside  her.)    Hulloa,  Ernie. 
How  are  the  rabbits?     (She  kisses  him.) 

Bennet.    Don't  stand  there  gaping.     I  rang  for 
some  wood.    Tell  your  brother  dinner  will  be  at  a 
quarter  to  eight. 
(Ernest,  never  speaking,  still  staring  at  Fanny,  gets 

clumsily  out  again.) 

Fanny.  Well,  I  suppose  I'd  better  see  about 
dressing  ?  Do  I  dine  with  his  lordship  or  in  the 
servants'  hall  ? 

Mrs.  B.  (turns  to  her  husband).  You  see !  Still 
the  old  impertinence. 

Fanny.  Only  wanted  to  know.  My  only  desire 
is  to  give  satisfaction. 

Bennet  (he  moves  towards  the  door).  You  will  do 
it  by  treating  the  matter  more  seriously.  At  dinner, 
by  keeping  your  eye  upon  me,  you  will  be  able  to  tell 
whether  you  are  behaving  yourself  or  not. 

Mrs.  B.  And  mind  you  are  punctual.  I  have 
appointed  Jane  to  be  your  maid. 

Fanny.    Jane ! 

Mrs.  B.  (in  arms).    Have  you  any  objections  ? 

Fanny.    No,  oh  no,  so  long  as  you're  all  satisfied. 

Mrs.  B.     Remember,  you  are  no  longer  on  the 
music-hall  stage.     In  dressing  for  Bantock  Hall  you 
will  do  well  to  follow  her  advice. 
(Bennet,  who  has  been  wailing  with  the  door  in  his 

hand,  goes  out;   Mrs.  B.  follows.) 

Jane  (in  the  tones  of  a  patient  executioner).  Are 
you  ready  ? 

Fanny.  Quite  ready,  dear.  Of  course — I  don't 
know  what  you  will  think  of  them — but  I've  only 
brought  modern  costumes  with  me. 

Jane  (not  a  lady  who  understands  satire).  We  must 
do  the  best  we  can. 

(She  marches  out  L.) 


28   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

(Fanny,  after  following  a  few  steps,  stops  and  thinks, 
Ernest  has  entered  with  the  wood.  He  is  piling  it  in 
the  basket  by  the  fire.  His  entrance  decides  her. 
She  glances  through  the  open  door  L.,  then  flies  across 
to  the  desk,  seals  herself,  and  begins  feverishly  to  write 
a  telegram.  In  a  whisper,  while  she  is  busy  at  the 
desk.) 

Fanny.    Ernie ! 

(He  comes  across  to  her.) 

Have  you  still  got  your  bicycle  ? 

Ernest.    Yes. 

Fanny.  Could  you  get  this  telegr,  ■«■&  off  for  me 
before  eight  o'clock  ?  I  don't  want  it  **it  from  the 
village,  I  want  you  to  take  it  yourself — into  the 
town.  There's  a  sovereign  for  you  if  you  do  it  all 
right. 

Ernest.     I'll  do  it.    Can  only  get  into  a  row. 

Fanny.  Pretty  used  to  them,  ain't  you  ?  (She 
has  risen.  She  gives  him  the  telegram.  She  has 
stamped  it.)    Can  you  read  it  ? 

Ernest.     "  George  P.  Newte." 

Fanny.    Hush ! 

(They  both  glance  at  the  open  door  L.) 

Ernest  (he  continues  in  a  lower  voice).  "72  A, 
Waterloo  Bridge  Road,  London.  Must  see  you  at 
once.    Am  at  the  new  shop."     (He  looks  up.) 

Fanny.    That's  all  right. 

Ernest.    "  Come  down.    Q.T.    Fanny." 

Fanny  (nods).  Get  off  quietly.  I'll  see  you 
again 

Voice  of  Jane  (from  dressing-room).  Are  you 
going  to  keep  me  waiting  all  night  ? 

(They  start  Ernest  hastily  thrusts  the  telegram 
into  his  breast  pocket.) 


r  FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM.        29 

Fanny.    Coming,  dear,  coming.    Not  a  word  to 
any  one ! 

(Sfie  hurries  him  out  of  door  L.c,  closes  it  behind  him.) 

^Merely  been  putting  the  room  a  bit  tidy.  (She  is 
flying  round  collecting  her  outdoor  garments,  etc.), 
Thought  it  would  please  you.  So  sorry  if  I've  kept 
you  waiting.  (With  a  'pile  of  clothes  in  her  arms  she 
is  crossing  L.) 

(Jane  has  appeared  at  door.) 

After  you,  dear.  . 

(Jane  goes  out  again.    Fanny,  with  her  pile  of  luggage,: 
follows.) 


Curtain, 


p*«. 


ACT  II 

Scene. — The  same,  except  that  the  screen  behind  the 

settee  has  been  removed. 

Time. — Morning.  The  sun  is  streaming  into  the  room. 
(In  Act  I  the  beams  fall  down  stage.  They  now  fall 
up  stage.) 

(The  clock  strikes  eleven.  On  the  last  stroke  the  door 
opens.  Dr.  Freemantle  enters,  shown  in  by 
Bennet,  who  follows  him.) 

Dr.  F.  (talking  as  he  enters).  Wonderful.  Wonder- 
ful. I  don't  really  think  I  ever  remember  so  fine  a 
spring. 

Bennet  (he  is  making  up  the  fire).  I'm  afraid  we 
shall  have  to  pay  for  it  later  on. 

Dr.  F.  (by  the  window).  I  expect  so.  Law  of  the 
universe,  you  know,  Bennet,  law  of  the  universe. 
Everything  in  this  world  has  got  to  be  paid  for. 

Bennet.    Except  trouble. 

(Doctor  laughs.) 

The  Times  ?     (He  hands  it  to  him.) 

Dr.  F.  Thanks.  Thanks.  (Seats  himself.)  Won't 
be  long — his  lordship,  will  he  ? 

Bennet.  I  don't  think  so.  I  told  him  you  would 
be  here  about  eleven. 

Dr.  F.    Um — what  do  you  think  of  her  ? 

Bennet.    Of — of  her  ladyship  ? 
/Dr.  F.    What's  she  like  ? 

(They  have  sunk  their  voices.) 

Bennet.    Well,  it  might  have  been  worse. 

Dr.    F.    Ah !    There's   always   that   consolation, 

isn't  there  ? 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   31 

Bennet.  I  think  her  ladyship — with  management 
— may  turn  out  very  satisfactory. 

Dr.  F.    You  like  her  ? 

Bennet.  At  present — I  must  say  for  her — she 
appears  willing  to  be  taught. 

Dr.  F.     And  you  think  it  will  last  ? 

Bennet.  I  think  her  ladyship  appreciates  the 
peculiarity  of  her  position.  I  will  tell  the  Miss 
Wetherells  you  are  here. 

Dr.  F.    Ah,  thanks! 

Bennet.  I  fancy  her  ladyship  will  not  herself  be 
visible  much  before  lunch  time.  I  understand  she 
woke  this  morning  with  a  headache. 

(He  goes  out.) 

(The  Doctor  reads  a  moment.  Then  the  door  L.  opens, 
and  Fanny  enters.  Her  dress  is  a  wonderful  con- 
trast to  her  costume  of  last  evening.  It  might  be  that 
of  a  poor  and  demure  nursery  governess.  Her  hair 
is  dressed  in  keeping.  She  hardly  seems  the  same 
woman.) 

Fanny   (seeing  the  Doctor,  she  pauses).    Oh ! 

Dr.  F.  (rises — a  pause).  I  beg  pardon,  have  I  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Lady  Bantock  ? 

Fanny.  .  Yes. 

Dr.  F.  Delighted.  May  I  introduce  myself — Dr. 
Freemantle  ?     I  helped  your  husband  into  the  world. 

Fanny.  Yes.  I've  heard  of  you.  You  don't 
mind  my  closing  this  door,  do  you  ?  (Her  very  voice 
and  manner  are  changed.) 

Dr.  F.  (a  little  puzzled).     Not  at  all. 

Fanny  (crosses,  and  closes  the  door  L.  c,  returns). 
Won't — won't  you  be  seated  ?     (She  sits  l.) 

Dr.  F.  Thanks.  (He  sits  r.)  How's  the  head- 
ache ? 

Fanny.    Oh,  it's  better./ 

Dr.  F.    Ah ! 

(4  silence.) 


>2   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Forgive  me,  I'm  an  old  friend  of  the  family.  You're 
not  a  bit  what  I  expected. 

Fanny.  But  you  like  it  ?  I  mean  you  think  this 
— {with  a  gesture) — is  all  right  ? 

Dr.  F.  My  dear  young  lady,  it's  charming.  You 
couldn't  be  anything  else,  I 

Fanny.     Thank  you. 

Dr.  F.  I  merely  meant  that — well,  I  was  not  ex- 
pecting anything  so  delightfully  demure. 

Fanny.  That's  the  idea— "  seemly."  The  Lady 
Bantocks  have  always  been  "  seemly  ?  "  (She  puts 
it  as  a  question.) 

Dr.  F.  (more  and  more  puzzled).  Yes — oh,  yes. 
They  have  always  been — (His  eye  catches  that  oj 
Constance,  first  Lady  Bantock,  looking  down  at  him 
from  above  the  chimney  piece.  His  tone  changes.) 
Well,  yes,  in  their  way,  you  know. 

Fanny.  You  see,  I'm  in  the  difficult  position  of 
following  her  late  ladyship.  She  appears  to  have  been 
exceptionally  "  seemly."  This  is  her  frock — I  mean 
it  was  hs\x  frock. 

Dr.  F.  God  bless  my  soul !  You  are  not  dressing 
yourself  up  in  her  late  ladyship's  clothes  ?  The  dear 
good  woman  has  been  dead  and  buried  these  twenty 
years. 

Fanny  (she  looks  at  her  dress).  Yes,  it  struck  me  as 
being  about  that  period. 

Dr.  F.  (he  goes  across  to  her).  What's  the  trouble  ? 
Too  much  Bennet  ? 

Fanny  (she  looks  up.  There  is  a  suspicion  of  a 
smile.).     One  might  say — sufficient  ? 

Dr.  F.  {laughs).  Excellent  servants.  If  they'd 
only  remember  it.  (He  glances  round — sinks  his 
voice.)  Take  my  advice.  Put  your  foot  down — 
before  it's  too  late. 

Fanny.  Sit  down,  please.  (She  makes  room  for 
him  on  the  settee — lelow  her.)  Because  I'm  going  to 
be  confidential.    You  don't  mind,  do  you  ? 

Dr.  F.  (seating  himself).    My  dear,  I  take  it  as  the 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   33 

greatest  compliment  I  have  had  paid  to  me  for  years. 

Fanny.  You  put  everything  so  nicely.  I'm  two 
persons.  I'm  an  angel — perhaps  that  is  too  strong 
a  word  ? 

Dr.  F.  [doubtfully).    WeU 

Fanny.  We'll  say  saint — or  else  I'm — the  other 
thing. 

Dr.  F.  (looks  at  her  with  a  smile).    Do  you  know, 

think  you  could  be. 

Fanny.  It's  not  a  question  about  which  there  is 
any  doubt. 

Dr.  F.  Of  course,  in  this  case,  a  little  bit  of  the 
devil 

Fanny  (she  shakes  her  head).  There's  such  a  lot  of 
mine — it  has  always  hampered  me  ;  never  being  able 
to  hit  the  happy  medium. 

Dr.  F.     It  is  awkward. 

Fanny.     I  thought  I  would  go  on  being  an  angel. 

Dr.  F.     Saint. 

Fanny.  Saint — till — well,  till  it  became  physically 
impossible  to  be  a  saint  any  longer. 

Dr.  F.    And  then  ? 

Fanny  (she  rises,  crosses,  turns  to  him  with  a  gesture 
>*  half -comic,  half -tragic  despair).  Well,  then  I  can't 
hnlp  it,  can  I  ? 

Dr.  F.  I  think  you're  making  a  mistake.  An 
explosion  will  undoubtedly  have  to  take  place.  That 
being  so — the  sooner  it  takes  place  the  better.     (Pause 

-he  rises,  goes  to  her.)     What  are  you  afraid  of  ? 

Fanny  (she  changes  her  tone — the  talk  becomes 
serious).    You've  known  Vernon  all  his  life  ? 

Dr.  F.     No  one  better. 

Fanny.  Tell  me.  I've  known  him  only  as  a 
lover.     What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ? 

(A  pause.    They  are  looking  straight  into  each  other's 
eyes.) 

Dr.  F.    A  man  it  pays  to  be  perfectly  frank  with. 

o 


34       FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT   PROBLEM. 

Fanny  [moves  towards  window).  It's  a  very  old 
family,  isn't  it  ? 

Dr.  F.  Old  !  Good  Lord,  no  !  First  Lord  Ban- 
tock  was  only  Vernon's  great  grandfather.  That  is 
the  woman  that  did  it  all.  (He  is  looking  at  the 
Hoppner.) 

Fanny  (she  has  also  turned).     How  do  you  mean  ? 

Dr.  F.  Got  them  their  title.  Made  the  name  of 
Bantock  of  importance  in  the  history  of  the  Georges. 
Clever  woman. 

Fanny  (leaning  over  a  chair,  she  is  staring  into  the 
eyes  of  the  first  Lady  Bantock).  I  wonder  what  she 
would  have  done  if  she  had  ever  got  herself  into  a 
really  first-class  muddle  ? 

Dr.  F.     One  thing's  certain. 

(Fanny  turns  to  him.) 
She'd  have  got  out  of  it. 

Fanny  (addresses   the   portrait)       I  do  wish  you 
could  talk. 
(Vernon  bursts  into  the  room  l.   c.     He  has  been 

riding.     He  throws  aside  his  hat  and  stick.) 

Vernon.  Hulloa !  This  is  good  of  you.  (He 
shakes  hands  with  the  Doctor.)  How  are  you  ?j 
{Without  waiting  for  any  reply,  he  goes  to  Fanny,  kissesl 
her.)  Good-morning,  dear.  How  have  you  been! 
getting  on  together,  you  two  ?  Has  she  been  talking! 
to  you  ? 

Dr.  F.    Oh,  yes. 

Vernon.  Doesn't  she  talk  well  ?  I  say,  what; 
have  you  been  doing  to  yourself  ? 

Fanny.  Jane — thought  this  style — (with  a  gesture)  > 
—more  appropriate  to  Lady  Bantock. 

Vernon.  Um  !  Wonder  if  she's  right  ?  (To  the) 
Doctor.)     What  do  you  think  ? 

Dr.  F.  i"  think  it  a  question  solely  for  Lady,; 
Bantock. 

Vernon.  Of  course  it  is.  (To  Fanny.)  You; 
know,  you  mustn't  let  them  dictate  to  you.    DearK 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   35 

good,  faithful  souls,  all  of  them.  But  they  must 
understand  that  you  are  mistress. 

Fanny  (she  seizes  eagerly  at  this  chance).  You 
might  mention  it  to  them,  dear.  It  would  come  so 
much  better  from  you. 

Vernon.  No,  you.  They  will  take  more  notice 
of  you. 

Fanny.  I'd  so  much  rather  you  did  it.  (To  Dr. 
F.)     Don't  you  think  it  would  come  better  from  him  ? 

Dr.  F.  (laughs).  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  do  it 
yourself. 

Vernon.  You  see,  dear,  it  might  hurt  them,  com- 
ing from  me.  It  would  seem  like  ingratitude.  Mrs. 
Bennet — why,  it  wasn't  till  I  began  to  ask  questions 
that  I  grasped  the  fact  that  she  wasn't  my  real  mother. 
As  for  old  Bennet,  ever  since  my  father  died — well,  I 
hardly  know  how  I  could  have  got  on  without  him. 
It  was  Charles  Bennet  that  taught  me  to  ride;  I 
learned  my  letters  sitting  on  Jane's  lap. 

Fanny  (that  hope  fails  her).  Yes.  Perhaps  I  had 
better  do  it  myself. 

Vernon.  I'm  sure  it  will  be  more  effective.  Of 
course  I  shall  support  you. 

Fanny.  Thank  you.  Oh,  by  the  by,  dear,  I 
shan't  be  able  to  go  with  you  to-day. 

Vernon.    Why  not  ? 

Fanny.    I've  rather  a  headache. 

Vernon.  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry/  Oh,  all  right,  we'll 
stop  at  home.     I'm  not  so  very  keen  about  it. 

Fanny.  No,  I  want  you  to  go,  dear.  Your  aunts 
are  looking  forward  to  it.  I  shall  get  over  it  all  the 
sooner  with  everybody  out  of  the  way. 

Vernon.    Well,  if  you  really  wish  it. 

(Enter  the  Misses  Wetherell.  They  are  dressed 
for  driving.  They  exchange  greetings  with  the 
Doctor.) 

Fanny.  You  know  you  promised  to  obey.  (Tickles 
his  nose  with  a  flower,) 


/ 


36   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Vernon  (laughing — to  the  Doctor).  You  see  what 
it  is  to  be  married  ?  y 

Dr.  F.  (laughs).     Very  trying. 

Vernon  (turning  to  the  Old  Ladies)  .  Fanny  isn't 
coming  with  us. 

Younger  (to  Fanny).    Oh,  my  dear ! 

Fanny.  It's  only  a  headache.  (She  takes  her 
aside.)  I'm  rather  glad  of  it.  I  want  an  excuse  for 
a  little  time  to  myself. 

Younger.  I  understand,  dear.  It's  all  been  so 
sudden.  (She  kisses  her — then  to  the  room.)  She'll 
be  all  the  better  alone.  We  three  will  go  on.  (She 
nods  and  signs  to  her  sister.) 

Fanny  (kissing  the  Elder)  .    Don't  you  get  betting. 

Elder.  Oh,  no,  dear,  we  never  do.  It's  just  to 
see  the  dear  horses. 

(She  joins  her  sister — They  whisper.) 

Vernon  (to  the  Doctor,  to  whom  he  has  been  talk- 
ing).   Can  we  give  you  a  lift  ? 

Dr.  F.  Well,  you  might  as  far  as  the  Vicarage. 
Good-bye,  Lady  Bantock. 

Fanny  (shaking  hands).    Good-bye,  Doctor. 

Vernon.    Sure  you  won't  be  lonely  ? 

Fanny  (laughs).  Think  I  can't  exist  an  hour  with- 
out you  ?    Mr.  Conceited  ! 

Vernon  (laughs  and  kisses  her) .  Come  along.  (He 
takes  the  Doctor  and  his  Younger  Aunt  towards  the 
door.) 

Elder  (who  is  following  last).  I  like  you  in  that 
frock. 

Fanny  (laughs) .  So  glad.  It's  Ernest  who  attends 
to  the  fires,  isn't  it  ? 

Elder.    Yes,  dear. 

Fanny.  I  wish  you'd  send  him  up.  (At  door — 
calls  after  them.)     Hope  you'll  all  enjoy  yourselves  ! 

Vernon  (from  the  distance).  I  shall  put  you  on  a 
fiver. 

Fanny.    Mind  it  wins.    (She  listens  a  moment — 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   37 

closes  door,  comes  back  to  desk,  and  takes  a  Bradshaw.) 
Five-six-three — five-six- three.  (Finds  page.)  St. 
Pancras,  eight  o'clock.  Oh,  Lord  !  Stamford,  10.45. 
Leave  Stamford 

(Enter  Ernest.) 

Is  that  you,  Ernest  ? 

Ernest.    Yes. 

Fanny.  Shut  the  door — sure  it  went  off  last 
night,  that  telegram  ? 

Ernest.    Yes. 

Fanny  (to  herself).  If  he  doesn't  catch  that  eight 
o'clock,  he  can't  get  here  till  nearly  four.  That  will 
be  awkward,     (To  Ernest.)     What  time  is  it  now  ? 

Ernest  (looks  at  clock).     Twenty  past  eleven. 

Fanny  (to  herself).  If  he  does,  he'll  be  here  about 
twelve — I  believe  I'll  go  and  meet  him.  Could  I 
get  out  without  being  seen  ? 

Ernest.    You'll  have  to  pass  the  lodge. 

Fanny.    Who's  at  the  lodge  now  ? 

Ernest.    Mother. 

Fanny.    Damn ! 

(Bennet  has  entered  unnoticed  at  the  words  '*  Til  go 
and  meet  him  "  and  drawn  near.  At  this  point 
from  behind,  he  boxes  Ernest's  ears.) 

Ernest.     Here,  steady  ! 

Bennet.  On  the  occasions  when  your  cousin 
forgets  her  position,  you  will  remember  it  and  remind 
her  of  it.     Get  out ! 

(Ernest,  clumsily  as  ever,  "  gets  out") 

A — sort  of  person  has  called  who — according  to  his 
own  account — "  happened  to  be  passing  this  way  " 
and  would  like  to  see  you. 

Fanny  (who  has  been  trying  to  hide  the  Bradshaw — 
with  affected  surprise).    To  see  me  ! 

Bennet  (drily).    Yes.    I  thought  you  would  be 


38   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

surprised.  He  claims  to  be  an  old  friend  of  yours — 
Mr.  George  Newte. 

Fanny  (still  keeping  it  up).  George  Newte !  Of 
course — ah,  yes.     Do  you  mind  showing  him  up  ? 

Bennet.  I  thought  I  would  let  you  know  he  had 
arrived,  in  case  you  might  be  getting  anxious  about 
him.  I  propose  giving  him  a  glass  of  beer  and  sending 
him  away  again. 

Fanny  {jumps  up).  Look  here,  uncle,  you  and  I 
havi  got  to  understand  one  another.  I  may  put  up 
with  being  bullied  myself — if  I  can't  see  any  help  for 
it — but  I'm  not  going  to  stand  my  friends  being 
insulted.     You  show  Mr.  Newte  up  here. 

(A  silence.) 

Bennet.  I  shall  deem  it  my  duty  to  inform  his 
lordship  of  Mr.  Newte's  visit. 

Fanny.  There  will  be  no  need  to.  Mr.  Newte,  if 
his  arrangements  permit,  will  be  staying  to  dinner. 

Bennet.    That,  we  shall  see  about. 

(He  goes  out.) 

Fanny  (following  him  to  door).  And  tell  them  I 
shall  want  the  best  bedroom  got  ready  in  case  Mr. 
Newte  is  able  to  stay  the  night.  I've  done  it !  (She 
goes  to  piano,  dashes  into  the  "  Merry  Widow  Waltz," 
or  some  other  equally  inappropriate  but  well-known 
melody.) 

(Then  enter  Newte,  shown  in  by  Bennet.  Newte 
is  a  cheerful  person,  attractively  dressed  in  clothes 
suggestive  of  a  successful  bookmaker.  He  carries  a 
white  pot  hat  and  tasselled  cane.  His  gloves  are 
large  and  bright.     He  is  smoking  an  enormous  cigar.) 

Bennet.    Mr.  Newte. 

(Fanny  springs  up  and  greets  him.  They  are  evi- 
dently good  friends.) 

Fanny.    Hulloa,  George  1 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    39 

Newte.  Hulloa,  Fan — I  beg  your  pardon,  Lady 
Bantock.     (Laughs.)     Was  just  passing  this  way 

Fanny  (cutting  him  short) .  Yes — so  nice  of  you  to 
call. 

Newte.    I   said  to    myself (His    eye    catches 

Bennet,  he  stops).     Ah,  thanks. 

(He  gives  Bennet  his  hat  and  stick,  but  Bennet  does 
not  seem  satisfied.  He  has  taken  from  the  table  a 
small  china  tray.  This  he  is  holding  out  to  Newte, 
evidently  for  Newte  to  put  something  in  it.  But 
what?  Newte  is  puzzled,  he  glances  at  Fanny. 
The  idea  strikes  him  that  perhaps  it  is  a  tip  Bennet 
is  waiting  for.  It  seems  odd,  but  if  it  be  the  custom — 
he  puts  his  hand  to  his  trouser's  pocket.) 

Bennet.  The  smoking-room  is  on  the  ground 
floor. 

Newte.  Ah,  my  cigar.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I 
couldn't  understand.  (He  puts  it  on  the  tray — breaks 
into  a  laugh.)  / 

Bennet.  Thank  you./'  Her  ladyship  is  suffering 
from  a  headache.  If  I  might  suggest — a  little  less 
boisterousness. 


(He  goes  out.) 

(A  silence.    Newte  (r.),  suddenly  subdued,  and  Fanny 
(l.)  look  at  one  another.) 

Newte.  I  say,  your  Lord  Chamberlain's  a  bit  of 
a  freezer ! 

/  Fanny.  Yes.  Wants  hanging  out  in  the  sun. 
How  did  you  manage  to  get  here  so  early  ?  (Sits 
upper  end  of  settee.) 

Newte.  Well,  your  telegram  rather  upset  me.  I 
thought — correct  etiquette  for  me  to  sit  down  here, 
do  you  think  ? 

Fanny.  Don't  ask  me.  Got  enough  new  tricks 
of  my  own  to  learn.  (Laughs.)  Should  chance  it, 
if  I  were  you  / 

/  » 


40   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Newte.  Such  a  long  time  since  I  was  at  Court. 
(Sits.)     Yes,  I  was  up  at  five  o'clock  this  morning. 

Fanny  (laughs) .     Oh,  you  poor  fellow ! 

Newte.  Caught  the  first  train  to  Melton,  and 
came  on  by  cart.     What's  the  trouble  ? 

Fanny.  A  good  deal.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
what  I  was  marrying  ? 

Newte.  I  did.  I  told  you  that  he  was  a  gentleman ; 
that  he 

Fanny.    Why  didn't  you  tell  me  'that  he  was  Lord 
Bantock  ?    You  knew,  didn't  you  ? 
.Newte  (begins  to  see  worries  ahead).    Can't  object 
to  my  putting  a  cigar  in  my  mouth  if  I  don't  light 
it — can  he  ? 

Fanny  (impatient) .  Oh,  fight  it — anything  you  like 
that  will  help  you  to  get  •»  along. 

Newte  (bites  the  end  off  the  cigar  and  puts  it  between 
his  teeth.  This  helps  him)./  No,  I  didn't  know — not 
officially. 

Fanny.     What  do  you  mean   "  not  officially  ?  1 

Newte.     He  never  told  me. 

Fanny.    He   never   told   you   anything — for   the 
matter  of  that.     I  understood  you  had  found  outs 
everything  for  yourself. 

Newte.  Yes ;  and  one  of  the  things  I  found  out 
was — that  he  didn't  want  you  to  know.  I  could  see 
his  little  game.  Wanted  to  play  the  Lord  Burleigh 
fake.  Well,  what  was  the  harm  ?  Didn't  make 
any  difference  to  you  ! 

Fanny.  Didn't  make  any  difference  to  me ! 
(Jumps  tip.)  Do  you  know  what  I've  done  ?  Married 
into  a  family  that  keeps  twenty-three  servants,  every 
blessed  one  of  whom  is  a  near  relation  of  my  own.1  l 

(He  sits  paralysed.     She  goes  on.) 

That  bald-headed  old  owl — (with  a  wave  towards  the 
door) — that  wanted  to  send  you  off  with  a  glass  ol 
beer  and  a  flea  in  your  ear — that's  my  uncle.    The 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   41 

woman  that  opened  the  lodge  gate  for  you  is  my  Aunt 
Amelia.  The  carrotty-headed  young  man  that 
answered  the  door  to  you  is  my  cousin  Simeon.  He 
always  used  to  insist  on  kissing  me.  I'm  expecting 
him  to  begin  again.  My  "  lady's  "  maid  is  my  cousin 
Jane.  That's  why  I'm  dressed  like  this  !  My  own 
clothes  have  been  packed  off  to  the  local  dressmaker 
to  be  made  "  decent."  Meanwhile,  they've  dug  up 
the  family  vault  to  find  something  for  me  to  go  on 
with. 

(He  has  been  fumbling  in  all  his  pockets  for  matches. 
She  snatches  a  box  from  somewhere  and  flings  it  to 
him.) 

"For  Heaven's  sake  light  it !  Then,  perhaps,  you'll 
be  able  to  do  something  else  than  stare.  I  have  claret 
and  water — mixed — with  my  dinner.  Uncle  pours 
it  out  for  me.  They've  locked  up  my  cigarettes. 
Aunt  Susannah  is  coming  in  to-morrow  morning  to 
hear  me  say  my  prayers.  Doesn't  trust  me  by  myself. 
Thinks  I'll  skip  them.  She's  the  housekeeper  here. 
I've  got  to  know  them  by  heart  before  I  go  to  bed 
to-night,  and  now  I've  mislaid  them.  (She  goes  to 
the  desk — hunts  for  them.) 

Newte  (having  lighted  his  eternal  cigar  he  can  begin 
to  think).     But  why  should  they 

Fanny  (still  at  desk).  Because  they're  that  sort. 
They  honestly  think  they  are  doing  the  right  and 
proper  thing — that  Providence  has  put  it  into  their 
hands  to  turn  me  out  a  passable  substitute  for  all 
a  Lady  Bantock  should  be  ;  which,  so  far  as  I  can 
understand,  is  something  between  the  late  lamented 
Queen  Victoria  and  Goody-Two-Shoes.  They  are 
the  people  that  I  ran  away  from,  the  people  I've  told 
you  about,  the  people  I've  always  said  I'd  rather 
starve  than  ever  go  back  to.  And  here  I  am,  plumped 
down  in  the  midst  of  them  again — for  life!  What 
is  it  ?    What  is  it  ? 


j: 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM, 

(Honoria  Bennet,  the  "  still-room  "  maid,  has  entered 
L.  c.  She  is  a  pert  young  minx  of  about  Fanny's 
own  age.) 

Honoria.  Merely  passing  through.  Sorry  to 
have  excited  your  ladyship. 

(Goes  out  L.) 

Fanny.  My  cousin  Honoria.  They've  sent  her 
up  to  keep  an  eye  upon  me.  Little  cat !  (S*ie  takes 
her  handkerchief,  drapes  it  over  the  keyhole  of  the  door  L.) 

Newte  (at  sight  of  Honoria  he  has  jumpecc  up  and 
hastily  hidden  his  cigar  behind  him).  Whit  are  you 
going  to  do  ? 

Fanny  (she  seats  herself  on  the  chair  r  he  has  just 
vacated — suggests  to  him  the  writing-chair).  Hear  from 
you — first  of  all — exactly  what  you  told  \  ernon. 

Newte  (sitting).    About  you  ? 

Fanny  (nods).     About  me — and  my  family. 

Newte.  Well — couldn't  tell  him  mruh,  of  course. 
Wasn't  much  to  tell. 

Fanny.     I  want  what  you  did  tell. 

Newte.    I  told  him — that  your  late  father — was  a 
musician. 
^Fanny.     Yes. 

Newte.  Had  been  unfortunate.  Didn't  go  into 
particulars.  Didn't  seem  to  be  any  need  ior  it/ 
That  your  mother  had  died  when  you  were  still  only  a 
girl — thai  you  had  gone  to  live  with  relatives.  (Ht 
looks  for  approval.) 

Fanny    Yes. 

Newte.  That  you  hadn't  got  on  well  with  them — 
artistic  temperament,  all  that  sort  of  thing — *hat,  in 
consequence,  you  had  appealed  to  your  father's  old 
theatrical  friends  ;  and  that  they — that  they,  having 
regard  to  your  talent — and  beauty 

Fanny.    Thank  you. 

Newte.  .Had  decided  that  the  best  thing  you 
could  do  was  to  go  upon  the  stage.  (He  finishes, 
tolerably  well  pleased  with  himself.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    43 

Fanny.  That's  all  right.  Very  good  indeed — 
what  else  ? 

Newte  (after  an  uncomfortable  pause).  Well, 
that's  about  all  I  knew. 

Fanny.    Yes,  but  what  did  you  tell  him  ? 

Newte.  Well,  of  course,  I  had  to  tell  him  some- 
thing. A  man  doesn't  marry  without  knowing  just  a 
little  about  his  wife's  connexions.  Wouldn't  be 
reasonable  to  expect  him.  You'd  never  told  me  any- 
thing — never  would  ;  except  that  you'd  liked  to  have 
boiled  the  lot.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  (He  is  playing 
with  a  quill  pen  he  has  picked  up.) 

Fanny  (she  takes  it  from  him).    What  did  you  do  ? 

Newte  (with  fine  frankness).  I  did  the  best  I 
could  for  you,  old  girl,  and  he  was  very  nice  about  it. 
Said  it  was  better  than  he'd  expected,  and  that  I'd 
made  him  very  happy — very  happy  indeed. 

Fanny  (she  leans  across,  puts  her  hand  on  his). 
You're  a  dear,  good  fellow,  George — always  have 
been.  I  wouldn't  plague  you  only  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  I  should  know — exactly  what  you  did  cell 
him. 

Newte  (a  little  sulkily).  I  told  him  that  your  uncle 
was  a  bishop. 

Fanny  (sits  back — staring  at  him).    A  what  ? 

Newte.  A  bishop.  Bishop  of  Waiapu,  New 
Zealand. 

Fanny.     Why  New  Zealand  ? 

Newte.  Why  not  ?  Had  to  be  somewhere. 
Didn't  want  him  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  did 
you  ? 

Fanny.    Did  he  believe  it  ? 

Newte.  Shouldn't  have  told  him  had  there  been 
any  fear  that  he  wouldn't. 

Fanny  (the  bitter  laugh — then).  Any  other  swell 
relations  of  mine  knocking  about  ? 

Newte.  One — a  judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  in 
Ohio.  Same  name,  anyhow,  O'Gorman.  Thought 
I'd  make  him  a  cousin  of  yours.     I've  always  remem- 


44    FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

bered   him.    Met  him  when   I  was  over  there  in 
ninety-eight — damn  him  ! 

(.4  silence.) 

Fanny  (she  rises).  Well,  nothing  else  for  it !  Got 
to  tell  him  it  was  all  a  pack  of  lies.  Not  blaming  you, 
old  boy — my  fault.  Didn't  know  he  was  going  to  ask 
any  questions,  or  I'd  have  told  him  myself.  Bit  vf 
bad  luck,  that's  all. 

Newte.  Why  must  you  tell  him  ?  Only  upset 
him. 

Fanny.  It's  either  my  telling  him  or  leaving  it  for 
them  to  do.  You  know  me,  George.  How  long  do 
you  see  me  being  bossed  and  bullied  by  my  own  ser- 
vants ?    Besides,  it's  bound  to  come  out  in  any  case. 

Newte  (he  rises.  Kindly  but  firmly  he  puts  her  back 
into  her  chair.  Then  pacing  to  and  fro  with  his  hands 
mostly  in  his  trousers'  pockets,  he  talks).  Now,  you 
listen  to  me,  old  girl.  I've  been  your  business  manager 
ever  since  you  started  in.  I've  never  made  a  mistake 
before — (he  turns  and  faces  her) — and  I  haven't  made 
one  this  time. 

Fanny.  I  don't  really  see  the  smartness,  George, 
stuffing  him  up  with  a  lot  of  lies  he  can  find  out  for 
himself. 

Newte.  If  he  wants  to.  A  couple  of  telegrams, 
one  to  His  Grace  the_  Bishop  of  Waiapu,  the^  other  to 
Judge  Denis  CFGorman,  Columbus,  Ohio,  would  have 
brought  him±>ack  the  information  that  neither  gentle- 
men had  ever  heard  of  you.  //  he  hadn't  been  careful 
not  to  send  them.  He  wasn't  marrying  you  with  the 
idea  of  strengthening  his  family  connexions.  He  was 
marrying  you  because  he  was  just  gone  on  you. 
Couldn't  help  himself. 

Fanny.  In  that  case,  you  might  just  as  well  have 
told  him  the  truth. 

Newte.  Which  he  would  then  have  had  to  pass  on 
to  every  one  entitled  to  ask  Questions.    Can't  you  under- 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   45 

stand  ?  Somebody,  in  the  interests  of  everybody,  had 
to  tell  a  lie.     Well,  what's  a  business  manager  for  ? 

Fanny.  But  I  can't  do  it,  George.  You  don't  know 
them.  The  longer  I  give  in  to  them  the  worse  they'll 
get. 

Newte.     Can't  you  square  them  ? 

Fanny.  No,  that's  the  trouble.  They  are  honest. 
They're  the  "  faithful  retainers  "  out  of  a  melodrama. 
They  are  working  eighteen  hours  a  day  on  me  not  for 
advantage  to  themselves,  because  they  think  it  their 
'■  duty  "  to  the  family.  They  don't  seem  to  have 
any  use  for  themselves  at  all. 

Newte.  Well,  what  about  the  boy  ?  Can't  he 
talk  to  them  ? 

Fanny.  Vernon !  They've  brought  him  up  from 
a  baby — spanked  him  all  round,  I  expect.  Might 
as  well  ask  a  boy  to  talk  to  his  old  schoolmaster. 
Besides,  if  he  did  talk,  then  it  would  all  come  out.  As 
I  tell  you,  it's  bound  to  come  out — and  the  sooner  the 
better.  " 

Newte.  It  must  not  come  out !  It's  too  late.  If 
we  had  told  him  at  the  beginning  that  he  was  propos- 
ing to  marry  into  his  own  butler's  family — well,  it's 
an  awkward  situation — he  might  have  decided  to  risk 
it.     Or  he  might  have  cried  off. 

Fanny.    And  a  good  job  if  he  had. 

Newte.  Now  talk  sense.  You  wanted  him — you 
took  a  fancy  to  him  from  the  beginning.  He's  a 
nice  boy,  and  there's  something  owing  to  him.  (It 
is  his  trump  card,  and  he  knows  it.) 

(Fanny  winces.) 

Don't  forget  that.  He's  been  busy,  explaining  to  all 
his  friends  and  relations  why  they  should  receive 
you  with  open  arms  ;  really  nice  girl,  born  gentle- 
woman, good  old  Church  of  England  family — no 
objection  possible.  For  you  to  spring  the  truth  upon 
him  now.  Well,  it  doesn't  seem  to  me  quite  fair  to 
him. 


46        FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Fanny.  Then  am  I  to  live  all  my  life  dressed  as  a 
charity  girl  ? 

Newte.  You  keep  your  head  and  things  will  gradu- 
ally right  themselves.  This  family  of  yours — they've 
got  some  sense,  I  suppose  ? 

Fanny.     Never  noticed  any  sign  of  it  myself. 

Newte.  Maybe  you're  not  a  judge.  (Laughs.) 
They'll  listen  to  reason.  You  let  me  have  a  talk  to 
them,  one  of  these  days  ;  see  if  I  can't  show  them — 
first  one  and  then  the  other — the  advantage  of  leaving 
to  "  better  "  themselves — with  the  help  of  a  little 
ready  money.  Later  on — choosing  your  proper  time 
— you  can  break  it  to  him  that  you  have  discovered 
they're  distant  connexions  of  yours,  a  younger  branch 
of  the  family  that  you'd  forgotten.  Give  the  show 
time  to  settle  down  into  a  run.  Then  you  can  begin 
to  make  changes. 

Fann  y.  You've  a  wonderful  way  with  you,  George. 
It  always  sounds  right  as  you  put  it — even  when  one 
jolly  well  knows  that  it  isn't.     (Laughs.) 

Newte  (laughs).  Well,  it's  always  been  right  for 
you,  old  girl,  ain't  it  ? 

Fanny.  Yes.  You've  been  a  rattling  good  friend. 
(She  takes  his  hands).  Almost  wish  I'd  married  you 
instead.     We'd  have  been  more  suited  to  one  another. 

Newte  (shakes  his  head.)  Nothing  like  having  your 
fancy.  You'd  never  have  been  happy  without  him. 
(He  releases  her.)  Twas  a  good  engagement,  or  I'd 
never  have  sanctioned  it. 

Fanny.  I  suppose  it  will  be  the  last  one  you  will 
ever  get  me.  (She  has  dropped  for  a  moment  into  a 
brown  study.) 

Newte  (he  turns).    I  hope  so. 

Fanny  (she  throws  off  her  momentary  mood  with  a 
laugh) .  Poor  fellow !  You  never  even  got  your 
commission. 

!  Newte.  I '11  take  ten  per  cent,  of  all  your  happiness, 
old  girl.  So  make  it  as  much  as  you  can  for  my 
benefit.    Good-bye.     (He  holds  out  hand.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   47 

Fanny.     You're  not  going  ?   You'll  stop  to  lunch  ? 

Newte.     Not  to-day. 

Fanny.  Do.  If  you  don't  they'll  think  it's  because 
I  was  frightened  to  ask  you. 

Newte.  All  the  better.  The  more  the  other  party 
thinks  he's  having  his  way,  the  easier  always  to  get 
your  own.  Your  trouble  is,  you  know,  that  you 
never  had  any  tact. 

Fanny.     I  hate  tact. 

(Newte  laughs.) 

We  could  have  had  such  a  jolly  little  lunch  together. 
I'm  all  alone  till  the  evening.  There  were  ever  so 
many  things  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about. 

Newte.    What  ? 

Fanny.  Ah,  how  can  one  talk  to  a  man  with 
his  watch  in  his  hand  ? 

(He  puts  it  away  and  stands  waitii  g,  but  she  is  cross.) 

I  think  you're  very  disagreeable. 

Newte.  I  must  really  get  back  to  town.  I 
oughtn't  to  be  away  now,  only  your  telegram 

Fanny.  I  know.  I'm  an  ungrateful  little  beast  ! 
(She  crosses  and  rings  bell.)  You'll  have  a  glass  oi 
champagne  before  you  go  ? 

Newte.     Well,  I  won't  say  no  to  that. 

Fanny.     How  are  all  the  girls  ? 

Newte.  Oh,  chirpy.  I'm  bringing  them  over  to 
London.     We  open  at  the  Palace  next  month. 

Fanny.  What  did  they  think  of  my  marriage  ? 
Gerty  was  a  bit  jealous,  wasn't  she  ? 

Newte.  Well,  would  have  been,  if  she'd  known 
who  he  was.     (Laughs.) 

Fanny.  Tell  her.  Tell  her — (she  draws  herself  up) 
— I'm  Lady  Bantock,  of  Bantock  Hall,  Rutlandshire 
It  will  make  her  so  mad.     (Laughs.) 

Newte  (laughs).     I  will. 

Fanny.    Give  them  all  my  love. 


48   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

(Enter  Ernest  l.  c.) 

Oh,  Ernest,  tell  Bennet 

(Ernest,  his  eyes  and  mouth  open.) 

To  see  that  Mr.  Newte  has  some  refreshment  before  he 
leaves.  A  glass  of  champagne  and — and  some  caviare. 
Don't  forget.     Good-bye.     You'll  come  again  ? 

Newte.  Whenever  you  want  me — and  remembei 
— the  watchword  is  "  Tact !  " 

(They  are  by  the  door.    Ernest  is  ahead.) 

Fanny.     Yes,  I've  got  the  word  all  right.     (Laughs.) 
Don't  forget  to  give  my  love  to  the  girls. 
Newte.     I  won't.     So  long ! 

(He  goes  out.) 

(Fanny  closes  the  door  and  comes  down.  Honoria 
has  re-entered  from  the  dressing-room.  She  looks 
from  the  handkerchief  still  hanging  over  the  keyhole 
to  Fanny.) 

Honoria.    Your  ladyship's  handkerchief  ? 

Fanny.  Yes.  Such  a  draught  through  that  key- 
hole. 

Honoria' (takes  the  handkerchief,  hands  it  to  Fanny). 
I  will  tell  the  housekeeper. 

Fanny.  Thanks.  Maybe  you  will  also  mention  it 
to  the  butler.  Possibly  also  to  the —  (She  suddenly 
changes.)  Honoria.  Suppose  it  had  been  you — you 
know,  you're  awfully  pretty — who  had  married  Lord 
Bantock,  and  he  had  brought  you  back  here,  among 
them  all — uncle,  aunt,  all  the  lot  of  them — what 
would  you  have  done  ? 

Honoria  (she  draws  herself  up).  I  should  have 
made  it  quite  plain  from  the  first,  that  J  was  mistress, 
and  that  they  were  my  servants. 

Fanny.    You  would,  you  think 

Honoria  (checking  her  outburst) .  But  then,  dear — 
you  will  excuse  my  speaking  plainly — there  is  a  slight 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   49 

difference  between  the  two  cases.  (She  seats  herself 
on  the  settee.) 

(Fanny  is  standing  near  the  desk.) 

You  see,  what  we  all  feel  about  you,  dear,  is — that 
you  are — well,  hardly  a  fit  wife  for  his  lordship. 

(Fanny's  hands  are  itching  to  box  the  girl's  ears.  To 
save  herself  she  grinds  out  through  her  teeth  the  word 
"  Tack  !  ") 

Of  course,  dear,  it  isn't  altogether  your  fault. 

Fanny.    Thanks. 

Honoria.  Your  mother's  marriage  was  most 
unfortunate. 

Fanny  (her  efforts  to  suppress  her  feelings  are  just — 
but  only  just — successful) .     Need  we  discuss  that  ? 

Honoria.  Well,  he  was  an  Irishman,  dear,  there's 
no  denying  it. 

(Fanny  takes  a  cushion  from  a  chair — with  her  back  to 
Honoria,  she  strangles  it.  Enter  Jane  l.c.  She 
stands  listening.) 

Still,  perhaps  it  is  a  painful  subject.  And  we  hope 
— all  of  us — that,  with  time  and  patience,  we  may 
succeed  in  eradicating  the  natural  results  of  your 
bringing-up. 

Jane.  Some  families,  finding  themselves  in  our 
position,  would  seek  to  turn  it  to  their  own  advantage. 
We  think  only  of  your  good. 

Fanny.  Yes,  that's  what  I  feel — that  you  are  worry- 
ing yourselves  too  much  about  me.  Your're  too 
conscientious,  all  of  you.  You,  in  particular,  Jane, 
because  you  know  you're  not  strong.  You'll  end  up 
with  a  nervous  break  down. 

(Enter  Mrs.  Bennet  l.  Honoria  nips  up.) 

(She  turns  to  her  aunt.)  I  was  just  saying  how  anxious 
I'm  getting  about  Jane.     I  don't  like  the  look  of  her 


50   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

at  all.  What  she  wants  is  a  holiday.  Don't  you 
agree  with  me  ? 

Mrs.  B.  There  will  be  no  holiday,  I  fear,  for  any  of 
us,  for  many  a  long  day. 

Fanny.  But  you  must.  You  must  think  more  of 
yourselves,  you  know,  you're  not  looking  well,  aunt, 
at  all.  What  you  both  want  is  a  month — at  the 
seaside. 

Mrs.  B.  Your  object  is  too  painfully  apparent  for 
the  subject  to  need  discussion.  True  solicitude  for 
us  would  express  itself  better  in  greater  watchfulness 
upon  your  own  behaviour. 

Fanny.     Why,  what  have  I  done  ? 

(Enter  Bennet  l.  c,  followed,  unwillingly,  by  Ernest.) 

Mrs.  B.     Your  uncle  will  explain. 
Bennet.     Shut  that  door. 

(Ernest  does  so.    They  group  l.  round  Bennet — 
Ernest  a  little  behind.    Fanny  remains  R. 

Sit  down. 

(Fanny,  bewildered,  speechless,  sits  R.) 

Carry  your  mind  back,  please,  to  the  moment  when, 
with  the  Bradshaw  in  front  of  you,  you  were  consider- 
ing, with  the  help  of  your  cousin  Ernest,  the  possibility 
of  your  slipping  out  unobserved,  to  meet  and  commune 
with  a  person  you  had  surreptitiously  summoned  to 
visit  you  during  your  husband's  absence. 

Fanny.  While  I  think  of  it,  did  he  have  anything 
to  eat  before  he  went  ?  I  told  Ernest  to — ask  you 
to  see  that  he  had  a  glass  of  champagne  and  a 

Bennet  (waves  her  back  into  silence) .  Mr.  Newte  was 
given  refreshment — suitable  to  his  station. 

(She  goes  to  interrupt — again  he  waves  her  back.) 

We  are  speaking  of  more  important  matters.  Your 
cousin  reminded  you  that  you  would  have  to  pass  the 


I 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   51 

lodge,  occupied  by  your  Aunt  Amelia.  I  state  the 
case  correctly  ? 

Fanny.    Beautifully ! 

Bennet.  I  said  nothing  at  the  time,  doubting  the 
evidence  of  my  own  ears.  The  boy,  however — where 
is  the  boy  ? — 

(Ernest  is  pushed  forward.) 

has  admitted — reluctantly — (he  darts  out  the  word 
straight  at  the  boy) 

(Ernest  instinctively  raises  his  arm.) 

that  he  also  heard  it      (4  pause  to  gather  solemnity.) 

You  made  use  of  an  expression. 

Fanny.     Oh,  cut  it  short — I  said  "  damn." 

(A  shudder  passes  the  Three  Women.) 

I'm  sorry  to  have  frightened  you,  but  if  you  knew  a 
little  more  of  really  good  society,  you  would  know 
that  ladies — quite  slap-up  ladies — when  they're 
excited — do 

Mrs.  B.  (interrupting  with  almost  a  scream).  She 
defends  it ! 

Bennet.  You  will  allow  me  to  be  the  judge  of  what 
a  lady  says — even  when  she  is  excited.  As  for  this 
man,  Newte 

Fanny.  The  best  friend  you  ever  had.  (She  is 
"  up  "  again.)  You  thank  your  stars,  all  of  you, 
and  tell  the  others,  too,  the  whole  blessed  twenty-three 
of  you — you  thank  your  stars  that  I  did  "  surrepti- 
tiously "  beg  and  pray  him  to  run  down  by  the  first 
train  and  have  a  talk  with  me  ;  and  that  Providence 
was  kind  enough  to  you  to  enable  him  to  come.  It's 
a  very  different  tune  you'd  have  been  singing  at  this 
moment — all  of  you — if  he  hadn't.    I  can  tell  you  that. 

Mrs.  B.  And  pray,  what  tune  should  we  have  been 
singing  if  Providence  hadn't  been  so  thoughtful  of  us  ? 

Fanny  (she  is  about  to  answer,  then  checks  herself, 


52   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

and  sits  again).  You  take  care  you  don't  find  out— 
there's  time  yet. 

Mrs.    B.  We  had  better  leave  her. 

Bennet.     Threats,  my  good  girl,  will  not  help  you. 

Mrs.  B.  (with  a  laugh).  She's  in  too  tight  a  corner 
for  that. 

Bennet.  A  contrite  heart  is  what  your  aunt  and  I 
desire  to  see.  (He  takes  from  his  pocket  a  small  book, 
places  it  open  on  the  desk.)  I  have  marked  one  or  two 
passages,  on  pages  93-7.  We  will  discuss  them 
together — later  in  the  day. 

(They  troop  out  in  silence,  the  key  turns  in  the  lock.) 

Fanny  (takes  up  the  book — turns  to  the  cover,  reads), 
11  The  Sinner's  Manual."     (She  turns  to  page  93.) 

Curtain. 


ACT   III 

Scene.     The  same. 

|  (The  door  l.  c.  opens.  Ernest  enters  with  tea-urn, 
etc ,  which  he  proceeds  to  add  to  the  other  tea  arrange- 
ments on  table  r.  c.  He  leaves  the  door  open  ;  through 
it  comes  the  sound  of  an  harmonium,  accompanying  the 
singing  of  a  hymn.  The  voices  come  from  below. 
Fanny  enters  l.  She  is  dressed  more  cheerfully 
than  in  Act  II,  but  still  "  seemly."  She  has  a 
book  in  her  hand.  She  pauses,  hearing  the  music, 
goes  nearer  to  the  open  door,  and  listens  ;  then  crosses 
and  takes  her  place  at  the  table.     The  music  ceases.) 

Fanny.     Another  prayer  meeting  ? 

(Ernest  nods.) 

(With  a  short  laugh.)     I  do  keep  'em  busy. 

Ernest.  D'ye  know  what  they  call  you  down- 
stairs ? 

Fanny.    What  ? 

Ernest.     The  family  cross. 

Fanny.     I'm  afraid  it's  about  right. 

Ernest.  What  have  you  been  doing  this  time  ? 
Swearing  again  ? 

Fanny.     Worse.     I've  been  lying. 

(Ernest  gives  vent  to  a  low  whistle.) 

Said  I  didn't  know  what  had  become  of  that  yellow 
poplin  with  the  black  lace  flounces,  that  they've  had 
altered  for  me.  Found  out  that  I'd  given  it  to  old 
Mother  Potts  for  the  rummage  sale  at  the  Vicarage. 
Jane  was  down  there.     Bought  it  in  for  half  a  crown. 


54   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Ernest.  You  are  risky.  Why,  you  might  have 
known 

(Enter  Vernon  l.  c.  He  is  in  golfing  get-up.  H* 
throws  his  cap  on  to  the  settee.) 

Vernon.    Hello,  got  a  cup  of  tea  there  ? 
(Ernest  goes  out.) 

Fanny.     Yes.    Thought  you  were  playing  golf  ? 

Vernon.  Just  had  a  telegram  handed  to  me  in  the 
village — from  your  friend  Newte.  Wants  me  to  meet 
him  at  Melton  Station  at  five  o'clock.  (Looks  at 
his  watch.)     Know  what  he  wants  ? 

Fanny.  Haven't  the  faintest  idea.  (She  hands  him 
his  cup.)  Is  he  coming  here  ?  Or  merely  on  his  way 
somewhere  ? 

Vernon.     I  don't  know,  he  doesn't  say. 

Fanny.  Don't  let  him  mix  you  up  in  any  of  his 
"  ventures."  Dear  old  George,  he's  as  honest  as  the 
day,  but  if  he  gets  hold  of  an  "  idea  "  there's  always 
thousands  in  it  for  everybody. 

Vernon.     I'll  be  careful. 

(Ernest  has  left  the  door  open.  The  harmonium 
breaks  forth  again,  together  with  vocal  accompaniment 
as  before.) 

What's  on  downstairs  then — a  party  ? 

Fanny.     Bennet  is  holding  a  prayer  meeting. 

Vernon.     A  prayer  meeting  ? 

Fanny.  One  of  the  younger  members  of  the  family 
has  been  detected  "  telling  a  deliberate  lie." 

(Vernon  is  near  the  door  listening,  with  his  back 
towards  her,  or  he  would  see  that  she  is  smiling.) 

Black  sheep,  I  suppose,  to  be  found  in  every  flock. 

(Music  ceases,  Ernest  having  arrived  with  the  news 
of  Vernon's  return.) 

Vernon  (returning  to  the  table,  having  closed  the  door, 
With  enthusiasm.).    Good  old  man,  you  know,  Bennet. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   55 

All  of  them  !  So  high-principled  !  Don't  often  get 
servants  like  that  nowadays 

Fanny.  Seems  almost  selfish,  keeping  the  whole 
collection  to  ourselves. 

Vernon  (laughs).  Ton  my  word  it  does.  But  what 
can  we  do  ?    They'll  never  leave  us — not  one  of  them. 

Fanny.     No,  I  don't  believe  they  ever  will. 

Vernon.  Do  you  know,  I  sometimes  think  that  you 
don't  like  them. 

(Fanny  makes  a  movement) 

Of  course,  they  are  a  bit  bossy,  I  admit.  But  all  that 
comes  from  their  devotion,  their 

Fanny.  The  wonder  to  me  is  that,  brought  up 
among  them,  admiring  them  as  you  do,  you  never 
thought  of  marrying  one  of  them. 

Vernon  (staggered).     Marrying  them  ? 

Fanny.  I  didn't  say  "  them."  I  said  "  one  of 
them."  There's  Honoria.  She's  pretty  enough, 
anyhow.  So's  Alice,  Charles  Bennet's  daughter,  and 
Bertha  and  Grace.  All  of  them  beautiful.  And 
what's  even  better  still — good.  (She  says  it  viciously.) 
Didn't  you  ever  think  of  them  ? 

Vernon.  Well  (laughs) — well,  one  hardly  marries 
into  one's  own  kitchen. 

Fanny.  Isn't  that  rather  snobbish  ?  You  say 
they're  more  like  friends  than  servants.  They've  lived 
with  your  people,  side  by  side,  for  three  generations, 
doing  their  duty — honourably.  There's  never  been  a 
slur  upon  their  name.  They're  '*  high-principled." 
You  know  it.  They've  better  manners  than  nine- 
tenths  of  your  smart  society,  and  they're  healthy. 
What's  wrong  with  them — even  from  a  lord's  point 
of  view  ? 

Vernon  (recovering  himself).  Well,  don't  pitch  into 
me  about  it.  It's  your  fault  if  I  didn't  marry  them — 
I  mean  one  of  them.  (He  laughs,  puts  his  empty 
cup  back  on  the  table.)  Maybe  I'd  have  thought  about 
it — if  I  hadn't  met  you. 


56   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Fanny  (she  laughs — takes  his  hand  in  hers).  I  wish 
you  hadn't  asked  Newte  any  questions  about  me.  It 
would  have  been  so  nice  to  feel  that  you  had  married 
me — just  because  you  couldn't  help  it — {laughs) — just 
because  I  was  I ;  and  nothing  else  mattered. 

Vernon.  Let's  forget  I  ever  did.  {He  kneels  beside 
her.)  I  didn't  do  it  for  my  own  sake,  as  you  know. 
A  man  in  my  position  has  to  think  of  other  people. 
His  wife  has  to  take  her  place  in  society.  People 
insist  upon  knowing  something  about  her.  It's  not- 
enough  for  the  stupid  "  County "  that  she's  the 
cleverest,  most  bewilderingly  beautiful,  bewitching 
lady  in  the  land. 

Fanny  {she  laughs).  And  how  long  will  you  think 
all  that  ? 

Vernon.    For  ever,  and  ever,  and  ever. 

Fanny.  Oh,  you  dear  boy.  {She  kisses  him.)  You 
don't  know  how  a  woman  loves  the  man  she  loves  to 
love  her.     (Laughs.)     Isn't  that  complicated  ? 

Vernon.  Not  at  all.  We're  just  the  same.  We 
love  to  love  the  woman  we  love. 

Fanny  {laughs).  Provided  the  "  County  "  will  let 
us.  And  the  County  has  said :  A  man  may  not 
marry  his  butler's  niece. 

Vernon  {laughing).  You've  got  butlers  on  the 
brain.  If  ever  I  do  run  away  with  my  own  cook  or 
under-housemaid,  it  will  be  your  doing. 

Fanny.  You  haven't  the  pluck  !  The  "  County  " 
would  laugh  at  you.  You  men  are  so  frightened  of 
being  laughed  at. 

Vernon  (he  rises) .  Well,  if  it  saves  us  from  making 
asses  of  ourselves 

Fanny.  Wasn't  there  a  niece  of  old  Bennet's — a 
girl  who  had  been  brought  up  abroad,  and  who  wasn't 
a  domestic  servant — never  had  been — who  stayed 
with  them  here,  at  the  gardener's  cottage,  for  a  short 
time,  some  few  years  ago  ? 

Vernon.  You  mean  poor  Rose  Bennet's  daughter 
—the  one  who  ran  away  and  married  an  organ-grinder. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    57 

Fanny.    An  organ-grinder  ? 

Vernon.  Something  of  that  sort — yes.  They  had 
her  over  ;  did  alL  they  could.  A  crazy  sort  of  girl ; 
used  to  sing  French  ballads  on  the  village  green  to  all 
the  farm  labourers  she  could  collect.  Shortened  poor 
Bennet's  life  by  about  ten  years.     (Laughs.) 

(Fanny  joins  him.) 

But  why  ?  Not  going  to  bully  me  for  not  having 
fallen  in  love  with  her,  are  you  ?  Because  that  really 
wasn't  my  fault.  I  never  even  saw  her.  'Twas 
the  winter  we  spent  in  Rome.  She  bolted  before 
we  got  back.     Never  gave  me  a  chance. 

Fanny.  I  accept  the  excuse.  (Laughs.)  No,  I 
was  merely  wondering  what  the  "  County  "  would 
have  done  if  by  any  chance  you  had  married  her. 
Couldn't  have  said  you  were  marrying  into  your  own 
kitchen  in  her  case,  because  she  was  never  in  your 
kitchen — absolutely  refused  to  enter  it,  I'm  told. 

Vernon  (laughs).  It  would  have  been  a  "nice 
point,"  as  they  say  in  legal  circles.  If  people  had 
liked  her  they'd  have  tried  to  forget  that  her  cousins 
had  ever  been  scullery-maids.  If  not,  they'd  have 
taken  good  care  that  nobody  did. 

(Enter  Bennet.     He  brings  some  cut  flowers,  with  the 
"  placing "  of  which  he  occupies  himself.) 

Bennet.    I  did  not  know  your  lordship  had  returne  d. 

Vernon.  Found  a  telegram  waiting  for  me  in  the 
village.  What's  become  of  that  niece  of  yours, 
Bennet — your  sister  Rose's  daughter,  who  was  here 
for  a  short  time  and  ran  away  again  ?  Ever  hear 
anything  about  her  ? 

Bennet  (he  is  l.,  his  back  to  the  room.  Very  quietly 
he  turns,  lets  his  eyes  for  a  moment  meet  Fanny's. 
Then  answers  as  he  crosses  R.).  The  last  I  heard 
about  her  was  that  she  was  married. 


58       FANNY  AND  THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM.  \ 

Vernon  (l.)     Satisfactorily  ? 

Bennet  (arranging  flowers  r.).  Looking  at  it  from 
her  point  of  view — most  satisfactorily. 

Vernon  (laughs).  But  looking  at  it  from  his— 
more  doubtful  ? 

Bennet.  She  was  not  without  her  attractions.  Her 
chief  faults,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  were  those  arising 
from  want  "of  discipline  in  youth;  I  have  hopes  that 
it  is  not  even  yet  too  late  to  root  out  from  her  nature 
the  weeds  of — indiscretion. 

Vernon.    And  you  think  he  is  the  man  to  do  it  ? 

Bennet.  Perhaps  not.  But  fortunately  there  are 
those  about  her  fully  alive  to  the  duty  devolving 
upon  them. 

Vernon.  Um.  Sounds  a  little  bit  like  penal  servi- 
tude for  the  poor  girl,  the  way  you  put  it,  Bennet. 
(Laughs.) 

Bennet.  Even  penal  servitude  maybe  a  blessing 
if  it  serves  to  correct  a  stubborn  spirit. 

Vernon.  We'll  have  to  make  you  a  J. P.,  Bennet. 
Must  be  jolly  careful  I  don't  ever  get  tried  before  you. 
(Laughs.)     Is  that  the  cart  ? 

Bennet  (he  looks  out  through  the  window) .  Yes,  your 
lordship. 

Vernon  (he  takes  up  his  cap).  I  may  be  bringing 
some  one  back  with  me.  (To  Fanny,  who  throughout 
has  remained  seated  R.c.)  Why  not  put  on  your  hat 
— come  with  me  ? 

Fanny  (she  jumps  up,  delighted).    Shall  I  ? 

Bennet.  Your  ladyship  is  not  forgetting  that 
to-day  is  Wednesday  ? 

Fanny.  What's  the  odds.  There's  nobody  to  call. 
Everybody  is  still  in  town. 

Bennet.  It  has  always  been  the  custom  of  the 
Lady  Bantocks,  when  in  residence,  to  be  at  home  on 
Wednesdays. 

Vernon.  Perhaps  better  not.  It  may  cause  talk ; 
if,  by  chance,  anybody  does  come.  I  was  forgetting 
it  was  Wednesday. 


FANNY  AND  THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM.        59 

(Fanny  sits  again.) 

I  shan't  do  anything  without  consulting  you.    Good- 
bye. 
Fanny.    Good-bye. 

(He  goes  out.    Slams  the  door.) 

Bennet.  You  think  it  wise,  discussing  with  his 
lordship  the  secret  history  of  the  Bennet  family  ? 

Fanny.  What  do  you  mean  by  telling  him  my  father 
was  an  organ-grinder  ?  If  the  British  public  knew 
the  difference  between  music  and  a  hurdy-gurdy 
he  would  have  kept  a  butler  of  his  own. 

Bennet.  I  am  not  aware  of  having  mentioned  to  his 
lordship  that  you  ever  to  my  knowledge  even  had  a 
father.  It  is  not  my  plan,  for  the  present  at  all  events, 
to  inform  his  lordship  anything  about  your  family. 
Take  care  I  am  not  forced  to. 

Fanny.  Because  my  father,  a  composer  who  had 
his  work  performed  at  the  Lamoureux  Concerts — 
as  I  can  prove,  because  I've  got  the  programme — 
had  the  misfortune  to  marry  into  a  family  of  lackeys 
— I'm  not  talking  about  my  mother  ■  she  was  never 
really  one  of  you.     She  had  the  soul  of  an  artist. 

Bennet  (white  with  suppressed  fury ;  he  is  in 
front  of  her  ;  his  very  look  is  enough  to  silence  her). 
Now  you  listen  to  me,  my  girl,  once  and  for  all.  I 
told  you  the  night  of  your  arrival  that  whether  this 
business  was  going  to  prove  a  pleasant  or  an  unplea- 
sant one  depended  upon  you.  You  make  it  an  easy 
one — for  your  own  sake.  With  one  word  I  can  bring 
your  house  of  cards  about  your  ears.  I've  only  to 
tell  him  the  truth  for  him  to  know  you  as  a  cheat 
and  liar. 

(She  goes  to  speak ;    again  he  silences  her) 

You  listen  to  me.  You've  seen  fit  to  use  strong 
language ;  now  I'm  using  strong  language.  This 
boy,  who  has  married  you  in  a  moment  of  impulse, 
what  does  he  know  about  the  sort  of  wife  a  man  in 


60   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

his  position  needs  ?  What  do  you  ?  made  to  sing 
for  your  living  on  the  Paris  boulevards — whose  only 
acquaintance  with  the  upper  classes  has  been  at 
shady  restaurants. 

Fanny.  He  didn't  want  a  woman  of  his  own  class. 
He  told  me  so.  It  was  because  I  wasn't  a  colourless, 
conventional  puppet  with  a  book  of  etiquette  in 
place  of  a  soul  that  he  was  first  drawn  towards  me. 

Bennet.  Yes.  At  twenty-two.  Boys  like  un- 
conventionally. Men  don't :  they've  learnt  its  true 
name,  vulgarity.  Do  you  think  I've  stood  behind 
English  society  for  forty  years  without  learning 
anything  about  it !  What  you  call  a  colourless 
puppet  is  what  we  call  an  English  lady.  And  that 
you've  got  to  learn  to  be.  You  talk  of  "  lackeys."  If 
your  mother,  my  poor  sister  Rose,  came  from  a 
family  of  "  lackeys  there  would  be  no  hope  for  you. 
With  her  blood  in  your  veins  the  thing  can  be  done. 
We  Bennets — (he  draws  himself  up) — we  serve.  We 
are  not  lackeys. 

Fanny.  All  right.  Don't  you  call  my  father  an 
organ-grinder.  I  won't  call  you  lackeys.  Unfor- 
tunately that  doesn't  end  the  trouble. 

Bennet.    The  trouble  can  easily  be  ended. 

Fanny.  Yes.  By  my  submitting  to  be  ruled  in 
all  things  for  the  remainder  of  my  life  by  my  own 
servants. 

Bennet.  Say  "relations,"  and  it  need  not  sound 
so  unpleasant. 

Fanny.  Yes,  it  would.  It  would  sound  worse. 
One  can  get  rid  of  one's  servants.  (She  has  crossed 
towards  the  desk.  Her  cheque-book  lies  there  half  hidden 
under  other  papers.  It  catches  her  eye.  Her  hand 
steals  unconsciously  towards  it.  She  taps  it  idly  with 
her  fingers.  It  is  all  the  work  of  a  moment.  Nothing 
comes  of  it.  Just  the  idea  passes  through  her  brain : 
not  for  the  first  time.  She  does  nothing  noticeable — 
merely  stands  listless  while  one  might  count  half  a 
dozen— then  turns  to  him  again.)     Don't  you  think 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   61 

you're  going  it  a  bit  too  strong,  all  of  you  ?  I'm  not 
a  fool.  I've  got  a  lot  to  learn,  I  know.  I'd  be  grateful 
for  help.  What  you're  trying  to  do  is  to  turn  me 
into  a  new  woman  entirely. 

Bennet.  Because  that  is  the  only  way  to  help 
you.     Men  do  not  put  new  wine  into  old  bottles. 

Fanny.  Oh,  don't  begin  quoting  Scripture.  I 
want  to  discuss  the  thing  sensibly.  Don't  you  see,  it 
can't  be  done.  I  can't  be  anybody  else  than  myself. 
I  don't  want  to. 

Bennet.  My  girl,  you've  got  to  be.  Root  and 
branch,  inside  and  outside,  before  you're  fit  to  be 
Lady  Bantock,  mother  of  the  Lord  Bantocks  that  are 
to  be,  you've  got  to  be  a  changed  woman. 

(4  pause.) 

Fanny.  And  it's  going  to  be  your  job,  from  begin- 
ning to  end ;  yours  and  the  rest  of  you.  What  I 
wear  and  how  I  look  is  Jane's  affair.  My  prayers 
will  be  for  what  Aunt  Susannah  thinks  I  stand  in 
need  of.  What  I  eat  and  drink  and  say  and  do  you 
will  arrange  for  me.  And  when  you  die,  Cousin 
Simeon,  I  suppose,  will  take  your  place.  And  when 
Aunt  Susannah  dies  it  will  merely  be  a  change  to 
Aunt  Amelia.  And  if  Jane  ever  dies,  Honoria  will 
have  the  dressing  and  the  lecturing  of  me.  And  so 
on  and  so  on,  world  without  end,  for  ever  and  ever, 
Amen.  (She  has  crossed  to  window.  Stands  looking 
out.) 

Bennet.  Before  that  time,  you  will,  I  shall  hope, 
have  learnt  sufficient  sense  to  be  grateful  to  us. 

(He  goes  out  L.c.) 

Fanny  (she  turns — walks  slowly  back  towards  the 
tea-table.  Halfway  she  pauses,  and  leaning  over  the 
back  of  a  chair  regards  in  silence  for  awhile  the  portrait 
of  the  first  Lady  Bantock).  I  do  wish  I  could  tell  what 
you  were  saying. 


62   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

(The  door  opens.  The  Misses  Wetherell  come  in. 
They  wear  the  same  frocks  as  in  first  Act.  They 
pause.    Fanny  is  still  gazing  at  the  portrait.) 

Elder.    Don't  you  notice  it,  dear  ? 

Younger.    Yes.    There  really  is. 

Elder.  It  struck  me  the  first  day.  (To  Fanny, 
who  has  turned)  Your  likeness,  dear,  to  Lady 
Constance.     It's  really  quite  remarkable. 

Fanny.     You  think  so  ? 

Younger.  It's  your  expression — when  you  are^ 
serious. 

Fanny  (laughs).     I  must  try  to  be  more  serious. 

Elder     It  will  come,  dear. 

(They  take  their  places  side  by  side  on  the  settee.) 

Younger  (to  her  sister  with  a  pat  of  the  hand)  In 
good  time  It's  so  nice  to  have  her  young  I  wonder 
if  anybody'U  come  this  afternoon. 

Elder  (to  Fanny).  You  see,  dear  most  of  the 
county  people  are  still  in  town. 

Fanny  (who  is  pouring  out  tea — laughs).  I'm  not 
grumbling 

Elder.  Oh,  you'll  like  them,  dear.  The  Crackle- 
thorpes  especially.  (To  her  sister  for  confirmation ) 
Bella  Cracklethorpe  is  so  clever. 

Younger.  And  the  Engells.  She'll  like  the 
Engells.     All  the  Engell  girls  are  so  pretty. 

(Fanny  brings  over  two  cups  of  tea ) 

Thank  you,  dear. 

Elder  (as  she  takes  her  cup — patting  Fanny's 
hand).     And  they'll  like  you,  dear,  all  of  them 

Fanny  (returning  to  table).     I  hope  so. 

Elder.  It's  wonderful,  dear — you  won't  min< 
my  saying  it  ? — how  you've  improved. 

(Fanny  winces.) 
Younger.    Of  course  it  was  such  a  change  for  yoi 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   63 

And  at  first  (turns  to  her  sister)    we  were  a  little 
anxious  about  her,  weren't  we  ? 

(Fanny  has  returned  to  them  with  the  cake  basket.) 

Elder  (as  she  takes  a  piece).  Bennet  (she  lingers 
on  the  name  as  that  of  an  authority)  was  saying  only 
yesterday  that  he  had  great  hopes  of  you. 

Younger  (Fanny  is  handing  the  basket  to  her). 
Thank  you,  dear. 

Elder.     I  told  Vernon.     He  was  so  pleased. 

Fanny  (her  brows  contract.  She  bites  her  lip.) 
Vernon  was  ? 

Elder.  He  attaches  so  much  importance  to 
Bennet's  opinion. 

Fanny.  Um.  I'm  glad  I  appear  to  be  giving 
satisfaction.  (She  has  returned  to  her  seat  at  the  table  ) 
I  suppose  when — you  go  to  town,  you  take  the 
Bennets  with  you  ? 

Elder  (surprised  at  the  question).    Of  course,  dear. 

Younger.  Vernon  didn't  wish  to  go  this  y?ar. 
He  thought  you  would  prefer 

Fanny.  I  was  merely  thinking  of  when  he  dia. 
Do  you  ever  go  abroad  for  the  winter  ?  So  many 
people  do,  nowadays. 

Elder.  We  tried  it  once.  But  there  was  nothing 
for  dear  Vernon  to  do  You  see,  he's  so  fond  of 
hunting 

Younger  (to  her  sister).  And  then  there  will  be 
his  Parliamentary  duties  that  he  will  have  to  take 
up  now 

(Fanny  rises,  abruptly.) 

Elder.     You're  not  ill,  dear  ? 

Fanny.  No.  Merely  felt  I  wanted  some  air. 
(She  goes  to  window.)  You  don't  mind,  do  you  ? 
(She  flings  a  casement  open.) 

Younger.  Not  at  all,  dear.  (To  her  sister.)  It 
is  a  bit  close. 


64   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Elder.     One  could  really  do  without  fires. 
(Fanny  remains  by  the  window.) 

Younger.     If  it  wasn't  for  the  evenings. 
Elder.    And  then,   of  course,   the  cold  weather 
might  come  again.     One  can  never  feel  safe  until 

(The  door  opens.  Dr.  Freemantle  enters.  An- 
nounced by  Bennet.  The  Old  Ladies  go  to  rise. 
He  stops  them.) 

Dr.  F.  Don't  get  up.  {He  shakes  hands  with 
them.)  How  are  we  this  afternoon  ?  {He  shakes  his 
head  and  clicks  his  tongue.)  Really,  I  think  I  shall 
have  to  bring  an  action  for  damages  against  Lady 
Bantock.     Ever  since  she 

Elder.     Hush  !  {She  points  to  the  window.)    Fanny. 

Younger.     Here's  Doctor  Freemantle. 

(Fanny  comes  from  the  window.) 

Dr.  F.  (he  meets  her  and  takes  her  hand).  Was  just 
saying,  I  really  think  I  shall  have  to  claim  damages 
against  you,  Lady  Bantock.  You've  practically 
deprived  me  of  two  of  my  best  paying  patients.  Used 
to  be  sending  for  me  every  other  day  before  you  came. 
Now  look  at  them  ! 

(The  Ladies  laugh.) 

Dr.  F.  She's  not  as  bad  as  we  expected.  (He  pats 
her  hand.)  Do  you  remember  my  description  of  what 
I  thought  she  was  going  to  be  like  ?     (Laughs.) 

Younger.     She's  a  dear  girl. 

Elder.     Bennet 

Fanny  (she  has  crossed  to  table — is  pouring  out  the 
Doctor's  tea).  Oh,  mightn't  we  have  a  holiday 
from  Bennet  ? 

Dr.  F.  (laughs).  Seems  to  be  having  a  holiday 
himself  to-day. 

Younger.    A  holiday  ? 

Dr.  F.    Didn't  you  know  ?    Oh,  there's  an  awfully 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   65 

swagger  party  on  downstairs.  They  were  all  troop- 
ing in  as  I  came. 

Younger.  I'd  no  idea  he  was  giving  a  party.  (To 
Fanny.)     Did  you,  dear  ? 

Fanny  (she  hands  the  Doctor  his  tea).  Yes.  It's 
a  prayer  meeting.  The  whole  family,  I  expect,  has 
been  summoned. 

Dr.  F.     A  prayer  meeting !     Didn't  look  like  it. 

Elder.  But  why  should  he  be  holding  a  prayer 
meeting  ? 

Fanny  (she  is  about  to  hand  him  the  cake — wearily) . 
Oh,  one  of  the  family 

Dr.  F.    And  why  twelve  girls  in  a  van  ? 

Younger.    In  a  van  ? 

(Fanny  pauses — the  basket  in  her  hand.) 

Dr.  F.  One  of  Hutton's  from  the  Station  Hotel — 
with  a  big  poster  pinned  on  the  door  :  "  Our  Empire." 

(Fanny  has  put  down  the  basket.    She  crosses  swiftly — 

rings  a  bell.) 

Younger.    What's  the  matter,  dear  ? 

Fanny.  I'm  not  quite  sure  yet.  (Her  whole 
manner  is  changed.  A  look  has  come  into  her  eyes  that 
has  not  been  there  before.  She  speaks  in  quiet,  deter- 
mined tones.  She  rings  again.  Then  returning  to  table, 
hands  the  plate  again  to  the  Doctor.)  Won't  you  take 
one,  doctor.  They're  not  as  indigestible  as  they  look. 
(Laughs.) 

Dr.  F.  (in  common  with  the  Old  Ladies,  he  is  be- 
wildered at  the  changed  atmosphere.  Helps  himself.) 
Thank  you.    I  hope  I 

(Enter  Ernest.) 

Fanny  (she  turns  to  him.  Her  tone,  for  the  first 
time,  is  that  of  a  mistress  speaking  to  her  servants). 
Have  any  visitors  called  for  me  this  afternoon  ? 

Ernest.    Vi — visitors — ? 

Fanny.    Some  ladies. 

E 


66   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Ernest  (he  is  in  a  slough  of  doubt  and  terror). 
L — ladies  ? 

Fanny.  Yes.  Please  try  and  understand  the 
English  language.  Has  a  party  of  ladies  called  here 
this  afternoon  ? 

Ernest.    There  have  been  some  ladies.    They — 


we- 


Fanny.  Where  are  they  ? 

Ernest.  They — I 

Fanny.  Send    Bennet    up    to    me.    Instantly, 

please. 

(Ernest,  only  too  glad  to  be  off,  stumbles  out.) 

Younger.    My  dear 

Fanny.  You'll  take  some  more  tea,  won't  you. 
Do  you  mind,  doctor,  passing  Miss  Wetherell's  cup. 
And  the  other  one.  Thank  you.  And  will  you  pass 
them  the  biscuits.  You  see,  I  am  doing  all  I  can  on 
your  behalf.  (She  is  talking  and  laughing — a  little 
hysterically — for  the  purpose  of  filling  time.)  Tea  and 
hot  cake — could  anything  be  worse  for  them  ? 

Dr.  F.     Well,  tea,  you  know 

Fanny.  I  know.  (Laughs.)  You  doctors  are  all 
alike.  You  all  denounce  it,  but  you  all  drink  it. 
(She  hands  him  the  two  cups.)  That  one  is  for  Aunt 
Wetherell  of  the  beautiful  hair  ;  and  the  other  is  for 
Aunt  Wetherell  of  the  beautiful  eyes.  (Laughs.) 
It's  the  only  way  I  can  distinguish  them. 

(Bennet  enters.) 

Oh,  Bennet ! 

Bennet.    You  sent  for  me  ? 

Fanny.  Yes.  I  understand  some  ladies  have 
called. 

Bennet.  I  think  your  ladyship  must  have  been 
misinformed.     I  most  certainly  have  seen  none. 

Fanny.  I  have  to  assume,  Bennet,  that  either 
Dr.  Freemantle  or  you  are  telling  lies. 

(A  silence.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   67 

Bennet.  A  party  of  over-dressed  young  women, 
claiming  to  be  acquainted  with  your  ladyship,  have 
arrived  in  a  van.  I  am  giving  them  tea  in  the  ser- 
vants' hall,  and  will  see  to  it  that  they  are  sent  back 
to  the  station  in  ample  time  to  catch  their  train  back 
to  town. 

Fanny.  Please  show  them  up.  They  will  have 
their  tea  here. 

(Both  up  to  this  point  have  spoken  with  studied  quietness. 
Both  feel  this  is  a  fight  to  a  finish.) 

Bennet  (her  very  quietness  is  beginning  to  alarm 
him.  It  shakes  him  from  his  customary  perfection  of 
manners) .  The  Lady  Bantocks  do  not  as  a  rule  receive 
circus  girls  in  their  boudoir. 

Fanny  (still  with  her  alarming  quietness).  Neither 
do  they  argue  with  their  servants.  Please  show  these 
ladies  in. 

Bennet.     I  warn  you 

Fanny.    You  heard  my  orders. 

!  (Her  tone  has  the  right  ring.  The  force  of  habit  is  too 
strong  upon  him.  He  yields — savagely — and  goes 
out.) 

I  (Her  whole  manner  is  changed.  A  load  has  been  lifted 
'■  from  her.  For  the  first — even  if  it  be  for  the  last  time 
■.  also — she  is  going  to  be  mistress  in  her  own  house.     She 

turns  to  the  Doctor.)  So  sorry  I  had  to  drag  you 
'  into  it.  (With  a  laugh.)  I  didn't  see  how  else  I  was 
!  going  to  floor  him. 

Dr.  F.  Splendid  !  (He  grips  her  hand.) 
Fanny  (she  goes  to  the  Old  Ladies,  who  sit  bewil- 
!  dered,  terrified).  They  won't  be  here  for  more  than  a 
;  few  minutes — they  can't  be.  I  want  you  to  be  nice 
J  to  them — both  of  you.  They  are  friends  of  mine. 
I  (She  speaks  in  a  tone  of  quiet  authority — she  turns  to 

the  Doctor.)     They're  the  girls  I  used  to  act  with. 

Wc  went  all  over  Europe — twelve  of  us — representing 


68   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

the  British  Empire.  (With  a  laugh.)  They  are  play- 
ing in  London  now. 

Dr.  F.     To-night  ?     (He  looks  at  his  watch.) 

Fanny  (she  is  busy  at  the  tea-table).  Yes.  They 
are  on  the  stage  at  half-past  nine.  You  might  look 
out  their  train  for  them.  (She  points  to  the  timetable 
on  the  desk.)  I  don't  suppose  they've  ever  thought 
about  how  they're  going  to  get  back.  It's  Judy's 
inspiration,  this,  the  whole  thing  ;  I'd  bet  upon  it. 
(With  a  laugh.)  She  always  was  as  mad  as  a  March 
hare. 

Dr.  F.  (busy  with  the  timetable).  They  were  nice- 
looking  girls. 

Fanny.  Yes.  I  think  we  did  the  old  man  credit. 
(With  a  laugh.)  John  Bull's  daughters,  they  called 
us  in  Paris. 

(Bennet  enters.) 
Bennet  (announces).    Our  Empire. 

(Headed  by  "  England,"  the  Girls,  laughing,  crowding, 
jostling  one  another,  talking  all  together,  swoop  in.) 

England  (a  lady  with  a  decided  Cockney  accent). 
Oh,  my  dear,  talk  about  an  afternoon  !  We  'ave 
'ad  a  treat  getting  'ere. 

(Fanny  kisses  her.) 

Scot,  (they  also  kiss).  Your  boss  told  us  you'd 
gone  out. 

Fanny.  It  was  a  slight — misunderstanding  ;  Ben- 
net, take  away  these  things,  please.  And  let  me 
have  half  a  dozen  bottles  of  champagne. 

Straits  Settleme.vts  (<j  small  girl  at  fie  back  of 
the  crowd — with  a  shrill  voice).     Hooray  ! 

Bennet  (he  is  controlling  himself  with  the  sutremest 
difficulty.  Within  he  is  a  furnace).  I'm  afraid  I  have 
mislaid  the  key  of  the  cellar. 

Fanny  (she  looks  at  him).  You  will  please  fin*d  it— 
quickly. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   69 

(Bennet,  again  from  habit  yields.  But  his  con- 
trol almost  fails  him.  He  takes  up  the  tray  of  un- 
needed  tea  things  from  the  table.) 

(In  a  lower  voice.)  I  shall  want  some  more  of  all 
these.  (Cakes,  fruit,  sandwiches,  etc.)  And  some 
people  to  wait.    Tell  Jane  she  must  come  and  help. 

(Bennet  goes  out.) 

(During  'his  passage  of  arms  between  mistress  and  man 
a  momentary  lull  has  taken  place  in  the  hubbub.  As 
he  goes  out  it  begins  to  grow  again.) 

England.  'E  does  tease  yer,  don't  'e  ?  Wanted 
us  to  'ave  tea — in  the  kitchen. 

Fanny.  Yes.  (With  a  laugh.)  These  old  family 
servants 

Africa  (she  prides  herself  on  being  "  quite  the  lady." 
A  girl  with  a  "  highty-tighty "  voice.)  Don't  talk 
about  'em,  dear.  We  had  just  such  another.  (She 
turns  to  a  girl  near  her.)  Oh,  they'll  run  the  whole 
show  for  you  if  you  let  'em. 

England.  It  was  Judy's  idea,  our  giving  you 
this  little  treat.     Don't  you  blime  me  for  it. 

Wales  (a  small,  sprightly  girl — with  a  childish, 
laughing  voice).  Well,  we  were  all  together  with 
nothing  better  to  do.  They'd  called  a  rehearsal  and 
then  found  they  didn't  want  us — silly  fools.  I  told 
'em  you'd  just  be  tickled  to  death. 

Fanny  (laughing — kisses  her).  So  I  am.  It  was  a 
brilliant  idea.  (By  this  time  she  has  kissed  or  shaken 
hands  with  the  whole  dozen.)  I  can't  introduce  you  all 
singly,  it  would  take  too  long.  (She  makes  a  whole- 
sale affair  of  it.)  My  aunts,  the  Misses  Wetherell — 
Dr.  Freemantle. 

(The  Misses  W.,  suggesting  two  mice  being  introduced 
to  a  party  of  friendly  kittens,  standing  l.,  clinging  to 
one  another,  making  an  heroic  smile,  murmur  some- 
thing inaudible.) 


70        FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Dr.  F.  (who  is  with  them,  to  comfort  them — he  has 
got  rid  of  the  timetable,  discreetly — smiles).     Delighted. 

England.    Charmed. 
(Some   of   the   Girls,    behind   her,   murmur  similar 

ejaculations.) 

(To  Fanny.)  Glad  we  didn't  strike  one  of  your  busy 
days.  I  say,  you're  not  as  dressy  as  you  used  to  be. 
'Ow  are  they  doing  you,  all  right? 

Fanny.    Yes.    Oh,  yes. 

Canada  ("  Gerty,"  a  big,  handsome  girl — with  a 
loud  commanding  voice).  George  gave  me  your 
message. 

Fanny  (puzzled  at  first).  My  message  ?  (Remem- 
bering— laughs.)  Oh.  That  I  was  Lady  Bantock  of 
Bantock  Hall.     Yes.     I  thought  you'd  be  pleased. 

Canada.     Was  delighted,  dear. 

Fanny.    So  glad. 

Canada.  I'd  always  had  the  idea  that  you  were 
going  to  make  a  mess  of  your  marriage. 

Fanny.  What  a  funny  idea.  (Bu'  the  laugh  that 
accompanies  it  is  not  a  merry  one.) 

Canada.    Wasn't  it  ?    So  glad  I  was  wrong. 

Wales.  We're  all  of  us  looking  out  for  lords  in 
disguise,  now.  Can't  you  give  us  a  tip,  dear,  how 
to  tell  'em  ? 

Scotland.  Sukey  has  broken  it  off  with  her  boy. 
Found  he  was  mixed  up  in  trade. 

Straits  Settlements  (as  before,  unseen  at  back  of 
crowd).  No.  I  didn't.  'Twas  his  moral  character. 
(Enter  Honoria,  with  glasses  on  a  tray  ;  Ernest  with 

champagne  ;    Jane  with  eatables  ;    Bennet  with  a 

napkin.     (It  is  a  grim  procession.)     The  Girls  are 

scattered,  laughing,  talking :  Africa  to  the  Misses  W. ; 

a  couple  to  Dr.  F.      These  are  all  near  the  settee. 

Others  are  by  the  window.    England,  Scotland, 

Wales  and  Canada  are  with  Fanny,  r.  c.     The 

hubbub,  with  the  advent  of  the  refreshments,  increases. 

There  is  a  general  movement  towards  the  centre.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   71 

Fanny.  Thanks,  Bennet.  You  can  clear  away  a 
corner  of  the  desk. 

England  (aside  to  her.)     Go  easy  with  it,  dear. 

(Fanny,  smiling,  nods.  She  crosses  to  desk  to  direct 
operations  in  a  low  tone  to  the  Bennets,  who  take 
her  orders  in  grim  silence  and  lips  tight  shut.) 

England.  Don't  forget,  girls,  that  we've  got  to 
get  back  to-night.  (Aside  to  the  Doctor,  who  has 
come  forward  to  help.)  Some  of  'em,  you  know,  ain't 
used  to  it. 

Dr.  F.  (nods).  Glasses  not  too  full.  (He  crosses — 
whispers  to  Fanny.) 

Ireland  (a  decided  young  woman).  How  much 
time  have  we  got  ? 

England.    Don't  ask  me.     It's  Judy's  show. 

Wales  (mimicking  Newte).  The  return  train, 
ladies,  leaves  Oakham  station.  (Stops — she  is  facing 
the  clock.    She  begins  to  laugh.) 

England.    What's  the  matter  ? 

Wales  (still  laughing).  We've  got  just  quarter 
of  an  hour  to  catch  it. 

(There  is  a  wild  rush  for  the  refreshments.  Jane  is 
swept  off  her  feet.     Bennet's  tray  is  upset.) 

England.  Quarter — !  Oh,  my  Gawd !  Here, 
tuck  up  your  skirts,  girls.     We'll  have  to 

Dr.  F.  It's  all  right.  You've  got  plenty  of  time, 
ladies. 

(The  excitement  calms.) 

(To  England.)  There's  a  train  from  Norton  on  the 
branch  line  at  5.33.  Gets  you  into  London  at  a 
quarter  to  nine. 

England.    You're  sure  ? 

Dr.  F.  (he  has  his  watch  in  his  hand).  Quite  sure. 
The  station  is  only  half  a  mile  away. 

England.  Don't  let's  miss  it.  Keep  your  watch 
in  your  hand,  there's  a  dear. 


72       FANNY  AND   THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Fanny  (her  business  is — and  has  been — to  move 
quietly  through  the  throng,  making  the  Girls  welcome, 
talking,  laughing  with  them,  directing  the  servants — 
all  in  a  lady's  way.  On  the  whole  she  does  it  re- 
markably well.  She  is  offering  a  plate  of  fruit  to 
Judy.).     You're  a  nice  acting  manager,  you  are. 

(Wales  laughs.) 

(She  finds  herself  in  front  of  Ireland — to  England.) 
Won't  you  introduce  us. 

England.  I  beg  your  pardon,  dear.  Of  course, 
you  don't  know  each  other.  Miss  Tetsworth,  our 
new  Ireland,  Lady  Bantock.  It  is  "  Bantock,"  isn't  it, 
dear  ? 

Fanny.  Quite  right.  It's  a  good  little  part,  isn't 
it? 

Ireland.  Well,  depends  upon  what  you've  been 
used  to. 

England.  She's  got  talent,  as  I  tell  'er.  But  she 
ain't  you,  dear.     It's  no  good  saying  she  is. 

Fanny  (hastening  to  smooth  it  over) .  People  always 
speaks  so  well  of  us  after  we're  gone.  (Laughs.) 
You'll  take  another  glass  of  champagne.  (They  are 
near  desk.) 

Ireland.  Thank  you — you  made  a  great  success, 
they  tell  me,  in  the  part. 

Fanny.  Oh,  there's  a  deal  of  fluke  about  these 
things.     You  see,  I  had  the  advantage 

Dr.  F.  (with  watch  still  in  his  hand).  I  think, 
ladies 

England.    Come  on,  girls. 

{A  general  movement.) 

Fanny.  You  must  all  come  again — spend  a  whole 
day — some  Sunday. 

Canada.     Remember  me  to  Vernon. 

Fanny.     He'll  be  so  sorry  to  have 

England  (cutting  in).  'Ope  we  'aven't  upset  you, 
dear.     (She  is  bustling  them  all  up.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   73 

Fanny.     Not  at  all.     (She  is  shaking  hands  with 
the  Girls.)     It's  been  so  good  to  see  you  all  again. 
England.     'Urry  up,  girls,  there's  dears. 

(They  have  all  passed  her.) 

Good-bye,  dear.     (Kissing  her.)     We  do  miss  yer. 
Fanny.    I'm  glad  you  do. 
England.    Oh,  it  ain't  the  same  show. 

(The  others  are  crowding  out  of  the  door.  She  and 
Fanny  are  quite  apart.) 

(She  glances  round.)  No  chance  of  your  coming  back 
to  it,  I  suppose  ?  (A  moment.)  Well  there,  you 
never  know,  do  yer  ?  Good-bye,  dear.  (Kisses  her 
again.) 

Fanny.    Good-bye  !    (She  stands  r.,  watching  them 
out.) 

(Bennet  goes  down  with  them.) 

(Ernest  is  busy  collecting  debris.  The  Misses  W.  are 
L.,  their  arms  round  one  another.  Dr.  F.  stands  I., 
looking  at  Fanny  with  an  expectant  expression. 
Jane  and  Honoria  stand  one  each  side  of  the  table, 
rigid,  with  set  faces.  After  a  moment  Fanny  goes  to 
the  open  window.  The  voices  of  the  Girls  below, 
crowding  into  the  van,  come  up  into  the  room.) 

(Calling  down  to  them.)  Good-bye.  You've  plenty 
of  time.  What  ?  Yes,  of  course.  (Laughs.)  All 
right.  Good-bye.  (She  turns,  comes  slowly  back  into 
the  room.  She  looks  at  Jane  and  Honoria,  where  they 
stand  rigid.) 

(Honoria  makes  a  movement  with  her  shoulders — 
takes  a  step  towirds  the  door.) 
Fanny.    Honoria ! 

(Honoria  stops — slowly  turns.) 

You  can  take  away  these  glasses.    Jane  will  help  you. 


U      FANNY  AND  THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM. 
(Bennet  re-enters.) 
Honoria.     It's  not  my  place- 


Fanny.     Your  place  is  to  obey  my  orders. 

Bennet  (his  coolness  seems  to  have  deserted  him. 
His  voice  is  trembling).  Obey  her  ladyship's  orders, 
both  of  you.    Leave  the  rest  to  me. 

(Honoria  and  Jane  busy  themselves  with  Ernest 
setting  the  room  to  rights.) 

May  I  speak  with  your  ladyship  ? 

Fanny.    Certainly. 

Bennet.    Alone,  I  mean. 

Fanny.     I  see  no  need. 

Bennet  (her  firmness  takes  him  aback.  He  expected 
to  find  her  defiance  disappear  with  the  cause  of  it.  But 
pig-headed,  as  all  Bennets,  her  opposition  only  drives 
him  on).  Your  ladyship  is  not  forgetting  the  alterna- 
tive ? 

(The  Old  Ladies  have  been  watching  the  argument 
much  as  the  babes  in  the  wood  might  have  watched 
the  discussion  between  the  two  robbers.) 

Elder  (in  terror).  Bennet !  you're  not  going  to 
give  notice  ! 

Bennet.  What  my  duty  may  be,  I  shall  be  able 
to  decide  after  I  have  spoken  with  her  ladyship — alone. 

Younger.    Dear  !    You  will  see  him  ? 

Fanny.     I  am  sorry.     I  have  not  the  time. 

Younger.  No.  Of  course.  (.4 ppealing  to  Bennet 
for  mercy.)     Her  ladyship  is  tired.     To-morrow 

Fanny  (interrupting).  Neither  to-morrow — nor 
any  other  day. 


(Vernon  enters,  followed  by  Newte.) 

(She  advances  to  meet  them.)  '  You've  just  missed  some 

old  friends  of  yours.     (She  shake  hands  with  Newte.) 

Vernon.    So  it  seems.    We  were  hoping  to  have 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   75 

been  in  time.  (To  Newte.)  The  mare  came  along 
pretty  slick,  didn't  she  ? 

Bennet  (he  has  remained  with  his  look  fixed  all  the 
time  on  Fanny).  May  I  speak  with  your  lordship  a 
moment — in  private  ? 

Vernon.    Now  ? 

Bennet.  It  is  a  matter  that  needs  to  be  settled, 
now.  (It  is  the  tone  of  respectful  authority  he  has  always 
used  towards  the  lad.) 

Vernon.  Well,  if  it's  as  pressing  as  all  that  I 
suppose  you  must.  (He  makes  a  movement  towards 
the  door  r. — to  Newte.)      Shan't  be  long. 

Fanny  (a).    One  moment. 

(Vernon  stops.) 

I  may  be  able  to  render  the  interview  needless.  Who 
is  mistress  of  this  house  ? 

Vernon  (r.).    Who  is  mistress  ? 

Fanny.    Who  is  mistress  of  your  house  ? 

Vernon.    Why  you  are,  of  course. 

Fanny.  Thank  you.  (She  turns  to  Bennet,  who 
has  remained  l.)     Please  tell  Mrs.  Bennet  I  want  her. 

Bennet.     I  think  if  your  lordship 

Fanny.    At  once. 

(She  is  looking  at  him.  He  struggles — looks  at  Vernon. 
But  Vernon  is  evidently  inclined  to  support  Fanny. 
Bennet  goes  out.) 

(Fanny  crosses  and  seats  herself  at  the  desk.  She  takes 
from  a  drawer  some  neatly-folded  papers.  She 
busies  herself  with  figures.) 

Vernon  (he  crosses  to  his  Aunts).  Whatever's  the 
matter  ? 

Elder.  She  is  excited.  She  has  had  a  very  trying 
time. 

Younger.  Bennet  didn't  like  the  idea  of  her 
receiving  them. 

Newte.    It  was  that  minx  Judy's  doing.    They'll 


76   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

have  the  rough  side  of  my  tongue  when  I  get  back—  , 
all  of  them. 

Vernon.     What  does  she  want  with  Mrs.  Bennet  ? 

Elder.     I  can't  think. 

(Vernon  and  the  Misses  W.  are  standing  in  a  group 
together.  Newte,  below  them,  a  little  apart.  Dr.  F.  is 
by  himself  (l.),  an  interested  spectator,  waiting  develop- 
ments. Jane,  Honoria  and  Ernest  are  still  busy 
about  the  room.) 

(Newte,  suddenly  the  whole  thing  comes  to  him.  His 
hands  go  up  and  his  mouth  opens.  He  turns.  Mrs. 
Bennet,  followed  by  Bennet,  enter.  Newte  sees  it 
is  too  late.  His  hands  make  a  gesture  of  despair. 
He  shrugs  his  shoulders.  Moves  away  farther  L. 
Dr.  F.  has  been  watching.     He  smiles  grimly.) 

Mrs.  B.  (l.)     Your  ladyship  sent  for  me  ? 

Fanny.  Yes.  (She  half  turns — holds  out  a  paper.) 
This  wages  sheet  is  quite  correct,  I  take  it  ?  It  is 
your  own. 

Mrs.  B.  (she  has  crossed — she  takes  it).  Quite 
correct. 

Fanny  (she  tears  out  a  cheque  she  has  written — 
hands  it  to  Mrs.  B.).  You  will  find  there  two  months' 
wages  for  the  entire  family.  I  have  made  it  out  in  a 
lump  sum  payable  to  your  husband.  The  other 
month  is  in  lieu  of  notice. 

(A  silence.     The  thing  strikes  them  all  dumb.) 

(She  puts  the  cheque-book  back  and  closes  the  drawer. 
She  rises.)  I'm  sorry.  There's  been  a  misunder- 
standing. It's  time  that  it  ended.  It  has  been  my 
own  fault.     (She  is  c. — to  Vernon.)     I  deceived  you 

about  my  family 

Newte.     If  there's  been  any  deceit 

Fanny  (cuts  him  short).     My  scene,  please,  George. 

(Newte,  knowing  her,  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  returns 
again  in  silence.) 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   77 

I  have  no  relations  outside  this  country  that  I  know 
of.  My  uncle  is  Martin  Bennet,  your  butler.  Mrs. 
Bennet  is  my  aunt. 

(Bennet  has  remained  l.    Mrs.   B.   is   r.    Jane, 
Honoria  and  Ernest  are  just  above  her  R.) 

I'm  not  ashamed  of  them.  If  they'd  had  as  much 
respect  for  me  as  I  have  for  them,  this  trouble  would 
not  have  arisen.  We  don't  get  on  together,  that's 
all.  And  this  seems  to  me  the  only  way  out.  As  I 
said  before,  I'm  sorry. 

[Again  a  silence.    Nobody  knows  what  to  say.) 

Vernon  (recovering  speech) .     But  why  did  you ? 

Fanny  (her  control  gives  way.  She  breaks  out). 
Oh,  because  I've  been  a  fool.  It's  the  explanation  of 
most  people's  muddles,  I  expect,  if  they  only  knew  it. 
Don't  talk  tome,  anybody.  I've  got  nothing  more  to 
say.  (To  Bennet.)  I'm  sorry.  You  wouldn't  give 
me  a  chance.  I'd  have  met  you  half  way.  (To 
Mrs.  B.)  I'm  sorry.  Don't  be  too  hard  on  me.  It 
won't  mean  much  trouble  to  you.  Good  servants 
don't  go  begging.  You  can  depend  upon  me  for  a 
character.  (To  Jane.)  You'll  do  much  better  for 
yourselves  elsewhere.  (To  Honoria.)  Don't  let  that 
pretty  face  of  yours  ever  get  you  into  trouble.  (To 
Ernest.)  Good-bye,  Ernest.  We  were  always  pals, 
weren't  we  ?  Good-bye.  (She  kisses  him.  It  has 
all  been  the  work  of  a  moment.  She  comes  down  again.) 
Don't  think  me  rude,  but  I'd  like  to  be  alone.  We 
can  talk  calmly  about  it  all  to-morrow  morning.  (To 
the  Misses  W.)  I'm  so  awfully  sorry.  I  wish  I 
could  have  seen  any  other  way  out.  (The  tears  are 
streaming  from  her  eyes.  To  Vernon.)  Take  them 
all  away,  won'.t  you,  dear.  We'll  talk  about  it  all 
to-morrow.  I'll  feel  gooder.  (She  kisses  him.  To 
Dr.  F.)  Take  them  all  away.  Tell  him  it  wasn't  all 
my  fault.     (To   Newte.)     You'll  have  to   stop  the 


78   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

night.     There  are  no  more  trains.     I'll   see  you  in 
the  morning.     Good-night. 

(Bennet  has  collected  his  troop.  Leads  them  away. 
Dr.  F.,  kindly  and  helpful,  takes  off  Vernon  and  the 
Two  Old  Ladies.) 

Newte   {he    grips    her    hand,  and    speaks  in  his 
short,  growling  way).     Good-night,  old  girl. 

{He  follows  the  others  out.) 

(Fanny  crosses  towards  the  windows.  Her  chief  busi- 
ness is  dabbing  her  eyes.  The  door  closes  with  a 
click.  She  turns.  She  is  R.  c.  She  puts  her  hand- 
kerchief away.  She  looks  at  the  portrait  of  Constance, 
first  Lady  Bantock.) 

Fanny.    I  believe  it's  what  you've   been  telling 
me  to  do,  all  the  time. 


Curtain. 


ACT  IV 

Scene. — The  same.  The  blinds  are  down.  The  stage 
dark.    Ashes  fill  the  grate. 

Time. — Early  morning. 

(The  door  opens  softly.  Newte  steals  in.  He  fumbles 
his  way  across  to  the  windows,  draws  the  blinds.  The 
morning  sun  streams  in.  He  listens — no  one  seems 
to  be  stirring.  He  goes  out,  returns  immediately 
with  a  butler's  tray,  containing  all  things  necessary 
for  a  breakfast  and  the  lighting  of  a  fire.  He  places 
the  tray  on  table,  throws  his  coat  over  a  chair,  and 
is  on  his  knees  busy  lighting  the  fire,  when  enter  the 
Misses  Wetherell,  clad  in  dressing-gowns  and 
caps,  yet  still  they  continue  to  look  sweet.  They 
also  creep  in,  hand  in  hand,  the  crouching  Newte 
is  hidden  by  a  hanging  fire  screen.  They  creep  for- 
ward till  the  coat  hanging  over  the  chair  catches  their 
eye.  They  are  staring  at  it  as  Robinson  Crusoe 
might  at  the  footprint,  when  Newte  rises  suddenly 
and  turns.  The  Misses  Wetherell  give  a  sup- 
pressed scream,  and  are  preparing  for  flight.) 

Newte  (he  stays  them).  No  call  to  run  away, 
ladies.  When  a  man's  travelled — as  I  have — across 
America,  in  a  sleeping  car,  with  a  comic  opera  troop 
— there's  not  much  left  for  him  to  know — you  want 
your  breakfast !  (He  wheedles  them  to  the  table.) 
We'll  be  able  to  talk  cosily — before  anybody  else 
comes. 

(They  yield  themselves.    He  has  a  way  with  him.) 

Elder.    We  haven't  slept  all  night. 

(Newte  answers  with  a  sympathetic  gesture.  He  is 
busy  getting  ready  the  breakfast.) 


80   FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Younger.  There's  something  we  want  to  tell  dear 
Vernon — before  he  says  anything  to  Fanny. 

Elder.     It's  something  very  important. 

Newte.  We'll  have  a  cup  of  tea  first — to  steady 
our  nerves. 

Younger.  It's  so  important  that  we  should  tell 
him  before  he  sees  Fanny. 

Newte.  Well  see  to  it.  (He  makes  the  tea.)  I 
fancy  they're  both  asleep  at  present. 

Elder.    Poor  boy ! 

Younger.     If  she  only  hadn't 

(Dr.  Freemantle  has  entered.) 

Dr.  F.     I  thought  I  heard  somebody  stirring- 

Newte.     Hush !     (He  indicates  doors  R.  and  L.) 
Younger  (turning  and  greeting  him).    It  was  so 
kind  of  you  not  to  leave  us  last  night. 
Elder.    We  were  so  upset. 

(Dr.  F.  pats  their  hands.) 

Younger.     We  hope  you  slept  all  right. 
Dr.  F.     Excellently.    Shall  be  glad  of  a  shave, 
that's  all.     (Laughs.) 

(Both  he  and  Newte  suggest  the  want  of  one.) 

Newte  (who  has  been  officiating).  Help  yourself 
to  milk  and  sugar. 

.  Dr.  F.  (who  has  seated  himself).    Have  the  Bennets 
gone  ? 

Newte.  Well,  they  had  their  notice  all  right. 
(Laughs.) 

Younger  (they  have  begun  to  cry).  It  has  been 
so  wrong  and  foolish  of  us.  We  have  never  learnt  to 
do  anything  for  ourselves. 

Elder.  We  don't  even  know  where  our  things 
are. 

Dr.  F.  They  can't  all  have  gone — the  whole 
twenty-three  of  them,  at  a  couple  of  hours'  notice. 
(To  Newte.)    Haven't  seen  any  of  them,  have  you  ? 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.   81 

Newte.     No  sign  of  any  of  them  downstairs. 

Dr  F.  Oh,  they  must  be  still  here.  Not  up,  I 
don't  suppose.     It  isn't  seven  o'clock  yet. 

Younger.  But  they  have  all  been  discharged.  We 
can't  ask  them  to  do  anything. 

Elder  (to  her  Sister).  And  the  Grinstones  are 
coming  to  lunch  with  the  new  curate.  Vernon  asked 
them  on  Sunday. 

Younger.    Perhaps  there's  something  cold. 

Elder.    Vernon  so  dislikes  a  cold  lunch. 

Dr.  F.  (to  Newte).  Were  you  able  to  get  hold  of 
Vernon  last  night  ? 

Newte  (shrugs  shoulders).  Waited  up  till  he  came 
in  about  two  o'clock.  Merely  answered  that  he  wasn't 
in  a  talkative  mood — brushed  passed  me  and  locked 
himself  in. 

Dr.  F.  He  wouldn't  say  anything  to  me  either. 
Rather  a  bad  sign  when  he  won't  talk. 

Newte.    What's  he  likely  to  do  ? 

Dr.  F.  Don't  know.  Of  course  it  will  be  all  over 
the  country. 

Younger.    And  dear  Vernon  is  so  sensitive. 

Dr.  F.     It  had  to  come — the  misfortune  is 

Newte.  The  misfortune  is  that  people  won't  keep 
to  their  own  line  of  business.  Why  did  he  want  to 
come  fooling  around  her  ?  She  was  doing  well  for 
herself.  She  could  have  married  a  man  who  would 
have  thought  more  of  her  than  all  the  damn  fools  in 
the  county  put  together.  Why  couldn't  he  have  left 
her  alone  ? 

Dr.  F.  (he  is  sitting  head  of  table,  between  Newte 
on  his  right,  and  the  Misses  W.  on  his  left.  He  lays 
his  hand  on  Newte's  sleeve — with  a  smile).  I'm 
sure  you  can  forgive  a  man — with  eyes  and  ears  in 
his  head — for  having  fallen  in  love  with  her. 

Newte.  Then  why  doesn't  he  stand  by  her  ? 
What  if  her  uncle  is  a  butler  ?  If  he  wasn't  a  fool, 
he'd  be  thanking  his  stars  that  'twas  anything  half  as 
respectable 


82         FANNY  AND  THE   SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Dr.  F.  I'm  not  defending  him — we're  not  sure  yet 
that  he  needs  any  defence.  He  has  married  a  clever, 
charming  girl  of — as  you  say — a  better  family  than 
he'd  any  right  to  expect.  The  misfortune  is,  that — 
by  a  curious  bit  of  ill-luck — it  happens  to  be  his  own 
butler. 

Newte.  If  she  takes  my  advice,  she'll  return  to 
the  stage.  No  sense  stopping  where  you're  not 
wanted. 

Younger.    But  how  can  she  ? 

Elder.    You  see  they're  married  I 

Dr.  F.  (to  change  the  subject).    You'll  take  an  egg  ? 

(Newte  has  been  boiling  some.  He  has  just  served 
them.) 

Elder  (rejecting  it).    Thank  you. 
Younger.    We're  not  feeling  hungry. 
Elder.    He  was  so  fond  of  her. 
Younger.    She  was  so  pretty. 
Elder.    And  so  thoughtful. 
Younger.    One  would  never  have  known  she  was 
an  actress. 
Elder.    If  only  she  hadn't 

(Bennet  has  entered.  Newte  is  at  fireplace.  The 
Old  Ladies  have  their  backs  to  the  door.  Dr.  F., 
who  is  pouring  out  tea,  is  the  first  to  see  him.  He  puts 
down  the  teapot,  staring.  The  Old  Ladies  look 
round.  A  silence.  Newte  turns.  Bennet  is 
again  the  perfect  butler.  Yesterday  would  seem  to 
have  been  wiped  out  of  his  memory.) 

Bennet.  Good-morning,  Miss  Wetherell.  Good- 
morning,  Miss  Edith.  (To  the  Two  Men).  Good- 
morning.  I  was  not  aware  that  breakfast  was  required 
to  be  any  earlier  than  usual,  or  I  should  have  had  it 
ready. 

Younger.  We  are  sure  you  would,  Bennet.  But 
you  see,  under  the  circumstances,  we — we  hardly 
liked  to  trouble  you. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    88 

Bennet  (he  goes  about  the  room,  putting  things  to 
rights.  He  has  rung  the  bell.  Some  dead  flowers  he 
packs  on  to  Newte's  tray,  the  water  he  pours  into 
Newte's  slop-basin,  etc.,  etc.)  My  duty,  Miss  Edith, 
I  have  never  felt  to  be  a  trouble  to  me. 

Elder.  We  know,  Bennet.  You  have  always 
been  so  conscientious.  But,  of  course,  after  what's 
happened 

(They  are  on  the  verge  of  tears  again) 

Bennet  (he  is  at  right  hand  of  table  piling  up  the 
breakfast  things).  Keziah  requested  me  to  apologize 
to  you  for  not  having  heard  your  bell  this  morning. 
She  will  be  ready  to  wait  upon  you  in  a  very  few 
minutes.  (To  the  Doctor.)  You  will  find  shaving 
materials,  doctor,  on  your  dressing-table. 

Dr.  F.     Oh,  thank  you. 

(Ernest  has  entered,  with  some  wood,  he  is  going  towards 
the  fire.) 

Bennet  (to  Ernest).  Leave  the  fire  for  the  pres- 
ent.   Take  away  this  tray. 

(Ernest  takes  up  the  tray,  and  with  it  goes  out,) 

(Speaking  over  the  heads  of  the  Misses  W.  to  Newte.) 
Breakfast  will  be  ready  in  the  morning-room,  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

Newte  (at  first  puzzled,  then  indignant,  now  breaks 
out.  He  has  come  down  to  c.) .  What's  the  little  game 
on  here — eh  ?  Yesterday  afternoon  you  were  given 
the  sack — by  your  mistress,  Lady  Bantock,  with  a 
month's  wages  in  lieu  of  notice — not  an  hour  before 
you  deserved  it.  What  do  you  mean — going  on  like 
this — as  if  nothing  had  happened  ?  (He  comes  to 
the  table  between  Dr.  F.  and  the  Misses  W.)  Is  Lady 
Bantock  to  be  ignored  in  this  house  as  if  she  didn't 
exist — or  is  she  not  ?  (He  brings  his  fist  down  on  the 
table.  He  has  been  shouting  rather  than  speaking.) 
I  want  this  thing  settled ! 


84    FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Bennet.     Your  bath,  Mr.  Newte,  is  quite  ready. 
Newte  (as  soon  as  he  can  recover  speech).    Never 
you  mind  my  bath,  I  want 

(Vernon  enters  r.    He  is  pale,  heavy-eyed,  short  in 
his  manner,  listless.) 

Vernon.  Good-morning — everybody.  Can  I  have 
some  breakfast,  Bennet  ? 

Bennet.  In  about  ten  minutes ;  I  will  bring  it  up 
here. 

(He  collects  the  kettle  from  the  fire  as  he  passes,  and  goes 
out.) 

Vernon.    Thank  you. 

(He  responds  mechanically  to  the  kisses  of  his  Two 
Aunts,  who  have  risen  and  come  to  him.) 

Newte.    Can  I  have  a  word  with  you  ? 

Vernon.  A  little  later  on,  if  you  don't  mind,  Mr. 
Newte.     (He  passes  him.) 

Newte  (he  is  about  to  speak,  changes  his  mind).  All 
right,  go  your  own  way. 

(Newte  goes  out.) 

Dr.  F.     "  Remember,"  says  Marcus  Aurelius- 


Vernon.  Yes — good  old  sort,  Marcus  Aurelius. 
(He  moves  away  likewise  from  the  Doctor.  Sits 
listlessly,  R.  c.) 

(Dr.  F.  stands  a  moment,  smiles  resignedly,  looks  at  the 
Misses  W.,  shrugs  his  shoulders,  and  closing  the  door 
after  him  goes  out.) 

(The  Misses  W.  whisper  together — look  round  cauti- 
ously, steal  up  behind  him,  encouraging  one  another) 

Elder.     She's  so  young. 
Younger.    And  so  adaptable. 
Vernon  (does  not  turn  round — takes  his  face  in  his 
hands).    Ah,  it  was  the  deception. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    85 

Younger  (she  puts  her  old  thin  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der). What  would  you  have  done,  dear,  if  she  had 
told  you — at  first  ? 

Vernon  (he  looks  round,  takes  her  hand  in  his — 
answers  a  little  brokenly).    I  don't  know. 
(The  Elder  is  the  other  side  of  him.    Her  Sister 

makes  a  sign  to  her  behind  him.    She  screws  her 

courage  up.) 

Elder.  There's  something  we  wanted  to  tell  you. 
(He  looks  at  her.  They  look  across  at  each  other.) 
The  first  Lady  Bantock,  your  great  grandmamma 

Younger.    She  danced  with  George  III. 

Elder.    She  was  a  butcher's  daughter. 

Younger.    He  was  quite  a  little  butcher. 

Elder.  Of  course,  as  a  rule,  dear,  we  never  men- 
tion it. 

Younger.    We  felt  you  ought  to  know. 
(They  take  each  other's  hands,  on  tip-toe,  they  steal 

out.    They  close  the  door  softly  behind  them.) 
(Vernon  rises,  takes  a  few  steps  towards  the  win- 
dow.    Turns — glances  round  at   the   portrait — 

draws  nearer  to  it.    With  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 

stops  dead  in  front  of  it,  contemplates  it  in  silence, 

A  sound  comes  from  Fanny's  room.    He  listens, 

moves  away  r.,  still  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

The  door  opens  (l.).     Fanny  enters.     She  is 

dressed  for  going  out.    She  stands  for  a  moment, 

the  door  in  her  hand.    Vernon  turns.    She  closes 

the  door  and  comes  forward.) 

Vernon  (r.).    Good-morning. 

Fanny  (l.).  Good-morning — George  stayed  the 
night,  didn't  he? 

Vernon.     Yes.     He's  downstairs  now. 

Fanny.    He  won't  be  going  for  a  little  while? 

Vernon.  Can't  till  the  ten  o'clock  train.  Have 
you  had  breakfast? 


86    FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Fanny.  I — I've  had  something  to  eat — yes. 
(She  sits  lower  end  of  the  settee — with  a  smile.)  I'm 
sorry  for  what  I  did  last  night — although  they  did 
deserve  it.  (Laughs.)  I  suppose  it's  a  matter  that 
can  easily  be  put  right  again. 

Vernon  (he  is  standing  r.  c.)  You  have  no  objec- 
tion to  their  staying  ? 

Fanny    Why  should  I  ? 

Vernon  (he  seats  himself  over  against  her).  What 
do  you  mean  ? 

Fanny.  There's  only  one  hope  of  righting  a 
mistake — and  that  is  going  back  to  the  point  from 
where  one  went  wrong — and  that  was  our  marriage. 

(A  moment.) 

Vernon.    We  haven't  given  it  a  very  long  trial. 

Fanny  (with  an  odd  smile).  It  went  to  pieces  at 
the  first — I  was  in  trouble  all  last  night ;  you  must 
have  known  it.     You  left  me  alone. 

Vernon.    Jane  told  me  you  had  locked  yourself  in. 

Fanny.  You  never  tried  the  door  for  yourself, 
dear.  (She  rises,  pretends  to  rearrange  something  on 
the  mantelpiece — any  excuse  to  turn  away  her  face  for  a 
moment.  She  turns  to  him  again,  smiling.)  It  was  a 
mistake,  the  whole  thing.  You  were  partly  to  blame. 
You  were  such  a  nice  boy — I  "  fancied  "  you — to  use 
George's  words.  (She  laughs.)  And  when  a  woman 
wants  a  thing  she  is  apt  to  be  a  bit  unscrupulous  about 
how  she  gets  it.  (She  moves  about  the  room,  touching 
the  flowers,  rearranging  a  cushion,  a  vase.)  I  didn't 
invent  the  bishop,  that  was  George's  embroidery. 
(Another  laugh.)  But,  of  course,  I  ought  to  have  told 
you  everything  myself.  I  ought  not  to  have  wanted 
a  man  to  whom  it  would  have  made  one  atom  of  differ- 
ence whether  my  cousins  were  scullery-maids  or  not. 
Somehow,  I  felt  that  to  you  it  might. 

(Vernon  winces.) 
It's  natural  enough.    You  have  ,1   big  position  to 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    87 

maintain.  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  lord — that  was 
your  doing.  George  did  find  it  out,  but  he  never  told 
me  ;  least  of  all,  that  you  were  Lord  Bantock — or  you 
may  be  pretty  sure  I  should  have  come  out  with  the 
truth,  if  only  for  my  own  sake.  It  hasn't  been  any 
joke  for  me,  coming  back  here. 

Vernon.  Yes.  I  can  see  they've  been  making 
things  pretty  hard  for  you. 

Fanny.  Oh,  they  thought  they  were  doing  their 
duty.  (She  comes  up  behind  him,  puts  her  hands  on 
his  shoulders.)  I  want  you  to  take  them  all  back 
again.  I  want  to  feel  I  have  made  as  little  commo- 
tion in  your  life  as  possible.  It  was  just  a  little  mistake 
— and  everybody  will  say  how  fortunate  it  was  that 
she  took  herself  off  so  soon  with  that — and  you  will 
marry  somebody  belonging  to  your  own  class.  And 
those  are  the  only  sensible  marriages  there  are. 

Vernon.    Have  you  done  talking  ? 

Fanny.    Yes !     Yes,  I  think  that's  all. 

Vernon.  Then  perhaps  you'll  let  me  get  in  a 
word.    You  think  me  a  snob  ? 

(Fanny  makes  a  movement.) 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am. 

Fanny  (she  has  moved  away  R.).  No,  that's  not 
fair.  You  wouldn't  have  married  a  girl  off  the 
music-hall  stage. 

Vernon.  Niece  of  a  bishop — cousin  to  a  judge. 
Whether  I  believed  it  or  not,  doesn't  matter.  The  sham 
that  isn't  likely  to  be  found  out  is  as  good  as  the  truth 
to  a  snob.  If  he  had  told  me  your  uncle  was  a  butler 
I  should  have  hesitated — that's  where  the  mistake 
began.     We'll  go  back  to  that.     Won't  you  sit  down  ? 

(Fanny  sits  by  the  desk.) 

I  want  you  to  stop.     There'll  be  no  mistake  this  time. 
I'm  asking  my  butler's  niece  to  do  me  the  honour  to 
be  my  wife. 
Fanny.    That's  kind  of  you. 


88    FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM. 

Vernon.  Oh,  I'm  not  thinking  of  you.  I'm  think- 
ing of  myself.  I  want  you.  I  fell  in  love  with  you 
because  you  were  pretty  and  charming.  There's 
something  else  a  man  wants  in  his  wife  besides  that. 
I've  found  it.  (He  jumps  up,  goes  over  to  her.  Brush- 
ing aside  things  in  his  way,  he  sits  on  the  desk  a  little 
below  her.)  I'm  not  claiming  it  as  a  right ;  you  can  go 
if  you  like.  You  can  earn  your  own  living,  I  know. 
But  you  shan't  have  anybody  else.  You'll  be  Lady 
Bantock  and  nobody  else — as  long  as  I  live.  (He  has 
grown  quite  savage.) 

Fanny  (she  bites  her  lip  to  keep  back  the  smile  thai 
wants  to  come).      That  cuts  both  ways,  you  know. 

Vernon.    I  don't  want  anybody  else. 

Fanny  (she  stretches  out  her  hand  and  lays  it  on 
his).  Won't  it  be  too  hard  for  you  ?  You'll  have 
to  tell  them  all — your  friends — everybody. 

Vernon.  They've  got  to  be  told  in  any  case.  If 
you  are  here,  for  them  to  see,  they'll  be  able  to  under- 
stand— those  that  have  got  any  sense. 

(Bennet  enters  with  breakfast  for  two  on  a  tray.    He 
places  it  on  table.) 

Fanny  (she  has  risen,  she  goes  over  to  him.)  Good- 
morning,  uncle. 

(She   puts   up    her   face.    He   stares — she   persists. 
Bennet  kisses  her) 

Lord  Bantock — (she  looks  at  Vernon) — has  a  request 
to  make  to  you.  He  wishes  me  to  remain  here  as  his 
wife.  I  am  willing  to  do  so,  provided  you  give  your 
consent. 

Vernon.  Quite  right,  Bennet.  I  ought  to  have 
asked  for  it  before.  I  apologize — will  you  give  your 
consent  to  my  marriage  with  your  niece  ? 

Fanny  (she  stays  him).  One  minute.  You  under- 
stand what  it  means.  From  the  moment  you  give  it 
— if  you  do  give  it — I  shall  be  Lady  Bantock — your 
mistress. 


FANNY  AND  THE  SERVANT  PROBLEM.    89 

Bennet.  My  dear  Fanny !  My  dear  Vernon ! 
I  speak,  for  the  first  and  last  time,  as  your  uncle.  I 
am  an  old-fashioned  person,  and  my  ideas,  I  have 
been  told,  are  those  of  my  class.  But  observation  has 
impressed  it  upon  me  that  success  in  any  scheme 
depends  upon  each  person  being^fit^JoiLjtheir  place. 
Yesterday,  in  the  interests  of  you  both,  I  should  have 
refused  my  consent.  To-day,  I  give  it  with  pleasure, 
feeling  sure  I  am  handing  over  to  Lord  Bantock  a  wife 
in  every  way  fit  for  her  position.     (He  kisses  her.) 

(Bennet  gives  her  to  Vernon,  who  grips  his  hand. 
He  returns  to  the  table.) 

Breakfast,  your  ladyship,  is  quite  ready. 

(They  take  their  places  at  the  table.    Fanny  takes  off 
her  hat,  Bennet  takes  off  the  covers.) 


Curtain. 


WB3k 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS    BOOK  ON   THE   DATE  DUE.   THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  50  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY    AND    TO    $1.00    ON    THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 

MAY   2   1939 

*'hY  $'t«J1a 

"y  j  J  &%)*§ 

27Feb'6lli 

•  i  rS 

MQnm'i 

f7 

DECEIVED 

DEC*   '67 -8  PM 

i  OAM   nrDT 

*-vMiN    L'Cr  I  . 

LD  21-95wi-7,'37 

otnaer 
aylord  Bros. 

Makers 
racuse,  N.  Y. 

AT.  JAM  21,  1908 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


^'■■'■:   ■■■'■■■■■' ?' ■'■*■•&■■  ■;■.*•"■•;■■•'■•-■  ■    ■ 


-^^■*-.V:  .",•■:■..■■    '  '.-•    v-v-.:w;:.--.:- -../;-.  ".-,'.<,.;    -..^r-..- •■'..,...    ,^-.;::v:  >;;-;). ,~! 

&f&?&:s    .v.. ",':■■,  :■':■>■•>;     -■  ■■:'?,:;•  ,"-.r-*:v.': -r'"v'. 
''■•»i;VA->r; "".:--,-:  ':'■■',■'■:.::-■.■■■-,.:,.■■■■  - ,.:  ^W^ -v". •  v-*-  ^y; -..■ 

c-  •-■■,••■•-.  :,.,■■::/;■-: -^   ':v>  :>  v '  -  >.;.•■.■•  -^ft:-  -ft-ft''  :^:  ■.■.>,. 

.j/;.v--;~!^.-. ?•'■'-•  ■'■■■■■•:•.'■.■■--.-  ■■."..■    ■■   "-    <■■  ?.''.':  V~„V-  ^■•^:s^  (v;»$;S-S7y  o 


•'--■'-'  :%>-y:-..':  '■'■'■y  ■ 


.    -    .  .  .  .  ,   * 


§ 

.»*:•■ 


:■  - 


.  -ft  ■•,.'-.•;  ;-./#■'■  .■"-■,:■;.■.■■'■.•■..■■••.■■ 


MS 


ft*ft 


-  •    . 

-'■.:■■■  ■''■■':- ■■■■■■■.;•.■.■:'■.  ■...- 

-  ,    -  /  .  .*   • 

■     ■-.■-■■■  '  ,',     -'.>■  ■■■-.■7>-^'.-..'  ."    ■.■'::..-*■■    '  ..-    ;ft>ft.:^- 

■'■'<  ;.:"  .  ,/-ft7  ^7vVft%-;M  ^U^-'ft^iw. 


.;-::• 


#£ 


^ISK 


■■^.■V-::^-  -',':•, 


•  .'.■.'■■■■■•-- ft\.ft":-  .«••.   v^' - '"--if^-f '^J 


